The Distance In Your Eyes
by Pfeifenkraut
Summary: REUPLOAD! While staying at the Burrow, Harry is attacked by death eaters. Separated from the others, he faces Greyback in a duel. However, when Fenrir suddenly smells him, he loses control and abducts him, but Harry manages to escape. And so the game of cat and mouse begins.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: Nothing of the Harry-Potter-universe belongs to us. It's the property of J. K. Rowling and Bloomsbury**. **We do not make money out of this although we would need it. If it were ours Fenrir and Harry would do a lot more snogging.**

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**29 May 2012** - *Crying their eyes out* ! _'The Distance In Your Eyes'_ (and its 8 chapters) was deleted because our summary was inappropriate and not K rated... FAIL! So we're gonna try and reupload it as soon as we can publish things again...

der-gestiefelte-Kater was so proud of the 182 reviews, 312 alerts and 499 favorites we had till this morning... Thanks again to everybody who reviewed and thought we were important enough to put us on one of their lists! XD Hopefully it will help der-gestiefelte-kater because she is absolutely devastated and needs all the encouragement she can get 'cause wofl1 can only cheer her up so much!

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**A/N:** (while writing this A/N we were on self-made apple cake so don't be surprised at our stupidity) Hi there! Here we are again. I wouldn't have been writing this if it hadn't been for der-gestiefelte-kater bothering the hell outta me because she wanted to write a Fenrir/Harry story and she had no idea for a storyline. So here I've been thinking and hoping for a story to appear in my head... And I only needed to see the 6th movie twice with her (and her perverted comments) for inspiration. This is what I came up with but I had no clue how to continue. Luckily for me, she was so taken with my first chapter that she developed the rest of the storyline at breakfast, however rough it may be. So if you have some ideas we could use we would be very grateful.

When beta'ing this chapter together with her, we had a lot of fun (due to our stupid comments) as usual. So yes, all the pathetic mistakes that are still in there are of our own doing and we take full responsibility for them.

**Warning in general: **Slash (M/M), bestiality (Fenrir is, after all, a werewolf...), blood, ripped bodies, gore

**Warning for this chapter: **some blood and an almost non-consensual sex scene... just realised... there _are_ some rather disturbing and bloody thoughts in here...

**Canon:** up to 5th book

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** 1. The Encounter  
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"Dinner is ready!" Mrs Weasley shouted from the kitchen downstairs in the Burrow.

"Coming!" Harry answered and made his way to the stairs, all the while listening to the occasional noise of slamming doors and the moaning house ghoul.

A small smile crept onto his features. Wizarding households were just great, especially the one of the Weasleys. The whole family was the complete opposite of what he knew from the proclaimed 'normal' one. The Dursleys that wouldn't be caught dead laughing out loud for the fear of someone else finding fault in it and labelling them 'abnormal'. The redheads were loud, chaotic and their home was always filled with laughter, chattering and love. They couldn't care less what others thought of them as long as all of them were happy.

Because of this, Harry was immensely grateful to be finally allowed to stay with Ron and his family for the rest of the summer break before his sixth year.

Musing about the fast approaching year – would this year's defence professor be a complete idiot, like most of the time, or would he be competent for a change? – he stepped out of Ron's room and had just closed its door behind himself when he bumped into another body.

Luckily enough, Harry was able to catch himself and steadied himself with a hand against the wall but the other person had fallen hard to the floor.

Apologising hastily, he blushed as he noticed who he had run into on the stairs. Immediately, he looked away, abashed.

Her bathrobe had slipped down her shoulder and revealed creamy skin.

He willed his eyes to stay focused on the wall behind her and helped her up.

His face had to resemble a tomato by now...

Catching the sound of rustling fabric, he heard her clearing her throat. Automatically his eyes strayed to her by now covered breasts and then wandered up to her flushed face. She wasn't looking at him, but he could still see that she was at least as red as he was, and it contrasted sharply with her hair.

He felt a nervous flutter in his belly when she turned her head and her brown eyes were suddenly upon himself.

Looking down in embarrassment, he shuffled his feet.

Their feet were almost touching and now that he thought about it, her toes were really cute.

Snapping his head up abruptly – had he really just thought about her feet? – he stared into her eyes and wetted his lips subconsciously.

He hadn't noticed how close they were standing.

Was it just him or was she really leaning in?

Instantly, his eyes fell onto her rosy lips and he saw how her tongue peaked out to wet them, too.

His heart beat was picking up and his eyes gazed back into hers. He felt hypnotised and couldn't prevent himself from being drawn in.

Leaning forwards himself, she came closer and closer. She smelled of orange shampoo and the water of the shower she had just taken.

Her warm breath was tickling his lips and he could almost taste the minty flavour of toothpaste on his own tongue.

This close he could make out green flecks in her doe eyes.

Their eyes fluttered closed almost simultaneously.

They were only a few inches apart and his heart thundered in his ears, making his palms become sweaty.

So close! It would only take a moment longer for their lips to meet for the first time!

A sudden and loud booming noise coming from the outside made the earth quake and the whole house shake, forcing Harry to grasp the banister of the stairs to steady himself. Thoughts of her soft flesh against his body were chased from his mind immediately.

Ginny lost her balance, tripped and fell backwards down the stairs. A short scream escaped her throat until her back crashed hard into the floor, the impact knocking the air out of her lungs. She didn't move as her body lay sprawled on the floor.

Horrified at the sight of her still form, Harry stumbled after her.

"Ginny? You okay?" He called, coming to a stop next to her. Instantly, he crouched down beside her, not daring to shake her shoulder, too afraid he could hurt her even more. A muffled groan escaped her lips, her eyes still shut tightly and a pained grimace crept onto her beautiful features but she pushed herself onto her elbows anyway and nodded her head.

Accepting her nod for the moment but still a bit worried, Harry stood up and offered her a hand to help her back to her feet. He pulled her up so that she stood next to him and examined her quickly before he deemed her okay.

"What was that?" He asked, not really expecting an answer from her. His eyes were still searching for an injury.

Instead of replying, she just shrugged but as soon as she did pain was written all over her face.

Harry narrowed his eyes in concern. Obviously, at least one of her shoulders had taken some sort of damage from the fall and it made her wince to move it.

Her attention, however, was already turned away from him so she didn't see his worried look. Her gaze was on their surroundings, a distinct look of apprehension entering her features.

Following her example and wanting to know what she had detected, Harry looked around and noticed the absence of the Weasley family.

"Where are the others?" He asked, not seeing anyone. Watching her carefully, he could see dread filling her face when she couldn't find a member of her family.

"Outside." Her terrified voice answered.

His eyes widened at the revelation as thoughts of what could have happened to them coursed through his mind. Immediately, fear for his family settled in his gut.

What if something had happened to them?

What if another person had suffered because of him?

What if someone had died?

Setting of at a dead sprint, he raced towards the open front door,Ginny right at his heels.

Relief washed over him upon seeing the Weasleys, Remus and Tonks all gathered in front of the Burrow. Running his eyes over them, he realised that nobody seemed to be seriously hurt, only a bit shaken from the explosion.

After he had made sure everyone was okay, he turned his gaze to the Burrow's fields, instinctively feeling that something was amiss. The atmosphere was thick with tension, so thick in fact that he could almost cut it with a knife.

Something was definitely wrong.

Suddenly he heard horrible laughter and a flame wall flared up, surrounding the house and trapping them. Wands were drawn immediately and everybody was scanning the area for the intruder.

"I killed Sirius Black! I killed Sirius Black!" A familiar voice screamed, delighted, almost singing gleefully. It made the hairs on his arms stand on end.

Bellatrix Lestrange.

"I killed Sirius Black!" She chanted while bombarding the house with hexes. Other curses from somewhere in the fields joined hers until finally there was another explosion and the Burrow burst into flames. Tongues of fire were licking at the nooks and crannies of his temporary home.

His anger sprang to life.

Bellatrix Lestrange had not only killed Sirius, his beloved godfather, his chance to escape from the Dursleys, but she was also destroying the house of the one and only family he had found after so long!

Harry's vision turned red and he sprinted after her, only noticing on the sidelines that the Weasleys, Tonks and Remus tried to stop him. But as soon as he jumped through the flames that were encircling the Burrow, the fire flared higher, cutting him off fromhis family.

Right now, though, he didn't care.

His mind was fixed on fulfilling his goal: To kill the one that had caused Sirius' death, to kill this madwoman. Nothing else mattered!

Determined, he followed her into the high grown cornfields that were surrounding the Burrow, the straws even taller than he. The insane, almost inhuman laughter was his only lead as to where to go.

Soon the flames were only a blurry image in his head and the shouts of the others only a whisper in the wind.

But it didn't matter. In his clouded judgement, Bellatrix's voice lured him deeper and deeper into the field, hence farther away from the protection of his family.

Right now, though, his safety was the last thing on his mind. Vengeance pushed every thought of caution away. He did not care that he followed a bodiless voice, or that the other Death Eaters that had attacked the Burrow were most likely lurking somewhere in the dark. As long as he would get his revenge nothing else mattered.

Suddenly everything went quiet and her laughter died.

Harry paused in his movements, halting in the middle of the field, standing in an area in which the corn had stopped growing and the water that had been only sparsely present during his run through the fields now reached his ankles.

Where was she? Where was Bellatrix?

Standing still Harry didn't lower his wand, alert to every sound that was produced. The tension in his body was mounting and he itched to do something, anything at all!

But firing curses into the field, acting rashly, foolishly, could mean his doom. He would reveal his position to the enemy – not that they didn't already know where he was, but still, he had to start thinking rationally.

Then Harry could hear sounds of someone rushing towards him. Whoever that was, he would not go down easily. He took position...

And almost hexed Ginny into oblivion.

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He took cover in the high cornfield while looking at his prey evilly, a broad smirk on his lips that showed off his sharp canines.

Voldemort's bitch hadn't given the signal to attack yet, all because of the appearance of that little Weasley chick.

Did it even matter that their prey was now consisting of two people instead of one? There was nothing the two brats could do against anyone of them. Both of them were helpless and at their mercy. And if he had any say in the matter then there wouldn't be any mercy involved. He would do with them as he pleased, torturing them whichever way he saw fit.

He couldn't wait to pounce on his two pieces of prey, play with them, have his fun with them. And then he would blissfully tear them to pieces, all the while letting them live as long as possible so he could delight in their pained cries of torture.

The looks of horror on the two brats' faces would be great. He would relish in their screams full of anguish and fear. Their smell would be exhilarating! And their blood! Their sweet, coppery blood! He could almost taste it on his tongue!

Saliva started to drip from his mouth at the things he could do to them.

He couldn't wait any longer! He didn't care that Voldemort wanted the Potter brat alive and in one piece. He had to act now! He wanted both of them!

Slowly he sneaked through the field, approaching the two.

He splashed the water at his feet intentionally. There would be no pleasure in it for him if he just jumped at them from behind and kill them with a simple stroke to the neck. The satisfaction of the hunt would be nought if they didn't try to defend themselves. He would play with them, rustle here and there, splash the water and thus drive them mad with fear. Hopefully, they would turn around before he pushed them to the ground so he could see their horror-stricken faces while he tortured them to death.

It wouldn't do if they didn't notice him. That would take all the fun out of it.

An evil grin crept onto his face, his canines showing.

And when he had them pinned beneath him, slowly eating the soft flesh directly from their bodies and ripping off limb by limb, they would start pissing themselves. Not that it would do them any good besides giving him even more... enjoyment. Their degrading behaviour would only enhance his pleasure. Their humiliation would catapult him to new highs! Not to forget of having wet themselves, showing him the utmost terror.

Ducking, he sneaked about until he was once again at their backs, his keen eyes never leaving his preys, all the while with a large toothy grin on his face. Another splashing sound made them whirl around even more frantically. Their breathing was hitched and their bodies were shaking. Delicious sweat was drenching their clothes.

The air was already heavy with their fear.

He continued in his doings and silently wondered when the first one of them would break down. When the first one of them would either sink down onto their knees and sob hysterically or try to flee. When the first one would run into the dangerous field, into him, their doom!

It wouldn't take much longer for their hectic movements to agitate the water so much they wouldn't be able to hear anything except themselves.

Fenrir couldn't suppress a mischievous chuckle. His yellow eyes glinted gleefully whilst he watched them spinning around, facing his previous hiding place.

In their fear they already couldn't pinpoint his hideouts any longer.

Soon it would be time for him to attack, to maim, to kill them, but still not now. For a short moment he wondered if they were the type to piss themselves in a situation like this, but pushed that thought to the back of his mind when he could see terror in their eyes.

Oh, how exhilarating!

Not much longer.

Their terror had already ten-folded. He could smell it in the air.

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Suddenly everything went quiet around them. Not one sound could be heard in the dark night except for his and Ginny's fast breathings. Harry knew that it wasn't Bellatrix doing this stupid mind game. She wouldn't have bothered with the creeping around and would've attacked them head on. Something else was lurking in the shadows. Something more dangerous even, because they were doing this thinking about the next move and not completely mindless like Bellatrix. And whoever or whatever it was, they had stopped hunting them, or at least moving. Maybe they sat somewhere in the field, watching them out of sinister eyes.

They had to get out of here, fast. He didn't care what happened to him as long as he could get Ginny out of there unscathed. Her body was trembling at his back. Of course, she was courageous, but she wasn't used to situations such as these.

Abruptly, Harry heard another noise in his eerily quiet surroundings. Whirling around and pointing his wand in that direction, he couldn't make out anything. Again, silence reigned. Only his and Ginny's shallow breathings echoed through the darkness, disturbing the unnatural stillness.

What was go-

There! Something had moved over there in the cornfield!

Immediately he spun around again.

His eyes widened. Out of the thick field came one Fenrir Greyback. Voldemort's tame werewolf – as far as werewolves could be tame.

The beast took confident strides towards them, a menacing grin on his features which showed off his sharp canines, his amber gaze gleaming with something Harry couldn't place while it was fixed upon him.

Harry's eyes narrowed. If Greyback thought he would get them without a fight then he was sorely mistaken.

Taking a protective stance in front of Ginny who had gripped the back of his shirt when she had first recognised the monster, he fired the first curse coming across his mind.

"Stupor!" He shouted and saw the hex vanishing with a flick of Greyback's wand. Angrily he started throwing random spells and curses at the werewolf but without success. The hexes all but dissolved into thin air.

It only registered in the back of his mind that Ginny was trying her best to hold off whichever Death Eater it was that was attacking from behind, because Harry was still fixed on Greyback's smug smirk that widened with every curse that didn't harm the beast.

Fury welled up in Harry at his own incompetence. He had to hit him, not only for his own sake but also for Ginny's. He had to protect her. There was no way she stood a chance alone against the present Death Eaters, Bellatrix Lestrange and Fenrir Greyback if he failed and then they would be doomed. They would experience an absolutely gruesome death. He couldn't let that happen. Besides this man was the one who had turned Remus. He couldn't let that go unpunished! He had to take revenge for his godfather!

Gripping his wand tighter, his magic flared to life, giving his hexes and curses even more ferocity. His eyes glared at the beast in front of him. There was no way he would let this monster escape unscathed!

A smirk crossed Harry's features as soon as finally, one of his hexes struck its target. But his triumph was short lived and Harry's grin vanished when Greyback didn't hit the ground or at least stumble. The curse pearled off of the beast like water off of skin.

It didn't have an effect on him! What was going on? Why hadn't his stunning spell worked? After all it hadn't been the ordinary one. It had been one with much more force, bordering on being a dark spell! Why wasn't Greyback unconscious on his back yet?

Looking away from Greyback and at his wand, he examined it. Nothing seemed to be wrong with it. So why hadn't it cut down his enemy? His eyes again locked on Greyback, uncertainty clearly written all over his face. The beast's smirk was still in place. Why hadn't it worked?

Harry shot another stunning spell at Greyback, this time it seemed as if the werewolf let himself be hit on purpose.

And again, nothing happened.

Insecurity captured Harry's heart, dread washed over him and filled him to the core. How should he protect himself and Ginny if his spells didn't work?

Greyback's grin widened, showing even more of his sharp teeth if that was even possible.

Maybe stunning spells just didn't work against werewolves? Maybe he should give another curse a try?

The Petrificus Totalus spell appeared to be weak in comparison to the former used stunning spell but maybe it would work. Rendering Greyback immobile was better than nothing after all.

Again the werewolf seemed to let himself be hit on purpose. And again nothing happened, aside from the widening of the beast's smirk.

Suddenly horror gripped Harry's heart when realisation hit him. He couldn't do anything against Greyback. How was he to fight him if nothing affected him? This just couldn't be! It couldn't end like this! Who should get rid of Voldemort if he was killed tonight? He would never get revenge for his parents' death. And even more innocent people would die, even more Muggle-borns!

The beast approached slowly, with each step stirring more fear and hate in Harry.

This just couldn't be!

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Fenrir saw the exact moment the brat realised that such weak curses didn't do anything to him.

Stupid stick waving was futile against him. He was the fucking Alpha of Britain's werewolf population! He was immune to such pathetic curses the brat was using. Only the very dark ones had an effect on him and even they were not as efficient as bodily harm and silver. Damn metal!

He saw the confusion turning into blank terror, coursing through the brat's body. But Fenrir could still make out a certain amount of revulsion and hate on the brat's face.

Interesting, though his body seemed to be frozen to the spot the brat could still feel animosity and disgust. Most of the other people he had encountered so far – though they hadn't lived for much longer – had been fixed on their fear.

His courage hadn't left the boy yet. Fenrir could see the brat plotting his and the Weasley bitch's escape in spite of his fear.

Very interesting, however he couldn't let that happen. He had waited far too long for a lovely bloodbath to let them escape.

Licking his lips, he stepped forwards, his gaze fixed on the spot where the brat's neck met the shoulder.

He could already imagine his canines slamming into that smooth neck, tasting the blood, letting it gush down his throat.

He was by no means a vampire – the thought alone was all it needed for Fenrir to lose his temper and snarl in disgust – but his wolf side craved the red, pulsing liquid.

And finally, when he had enough of that blood that was frantically being pumped through the brat's body, he would rip parts of his throat out.

But not enough to kill him immediately, mind you! That wouldn't do! No, that would definitely not do! He needed to see the pained expression on the Potter brat's face when he withered on the ground, desperately clutching his neck while trying to stop the blood-flow, but nevertheless knowing that it was already too late.

Yes, and when the brat realised his doom. Fenrir would start on his body. He would lick at it to take in the sweet moisture that would build the brat's body. Sweat out of fear for him. Simply delicious! Occasionally he would bite into the skin of the brat, ripping it open and letting the precious liquid spill out of him. Then he would take a bite of that mouth-watering flesh and enjoy it and the whimpers or cries of pain!

He had to have a bite of him now! He wanted …

Oh yes, he wanted the boy ... needed the blood to dip down his chin.

He had just taken another menacing step towards them, when suddenly a pleasant scent reached his nose.

Instantly, Fenrir halted in his movements to take another whiff.

Immediately all his senses were on alert. He had never smelled something so divine before, not even the purest of virgins he had defiled and killed had come close to this blissful aroma!

Pinpointing the delicious scent, his nose led him to the Potter brat.

His eyes widened. He couldn't believe his nose. Just moments ago it had told him all about the fear and disgust the brat felt towards him.

Now this!

This marvellous scent! Of course, it smelled erotically seductive and ripe. Not to forget the innocence and – Fenrir would have raised an eyebrow if he hadn't been that enchanted already – virginity. But there was freedom in the scent as well. It smelled like home and as if he was running through the wild.

He had _never_ encountered something like this before!

It was mouth watering!

Now giving the Potter pup a once over – the first time he had only glanced at him and not really taken notice of his appearance – his cock gave a little twitch.

The pup was small, but then again, nobody was as tall as he himself. The boy's form was slim, however that didn't mean that he was weak. Fenrir could see some small muscles under the shirt the pup was wearing. Then there was that famous black mob of hair the Dark Lord cursed on a daily basis. But the most captivating about his appearance were his eyes. One look into them reminded him of a forest through which he was running.

As soon as he was done with examining the Potter pup, the next thing that caught his attention was the other's thundering heart. It was music to his wolf-ears. The fear that caused adrenaline to course like a maelstrom through the pup's system and his scent were like a drug to the beast.

He had to have him. Now!

Stalking closer to the Potter pup, he closed in on him like the predator he was on its prey.

Fenrir's own blood started moving downwards. The prospect of a hunt combined with the smell and appearance of the pup was arousing.

With each step he took, the blood running frantically through the pup's veins became louder. Delicious! He had to have a taste of it!

Immediately Fenrir's gaze fell onto the junction of the Potter pup's neck. It looked to be made just for him, for him to bite into, mark him, taste his blood and so much more!

Oh, just the mental image of it and he was achingly hard!

The desire to defile and sully him arose like a fire would in a forest.

Fenrir was high on all the impressions he got from the Potter pup. There was no doubt left in him that he was Fenrir's long sought for mate.

Not being able to stop himself any longer, he jumped at Harry, transforming in mid-air into a large silver wolf, broader in shoulders and taller than the average werewolf, with yellow, piercing eyes. When standing on all fours he would reach Harry's midsection. Strong muscles moved beneath the silver fur, indicating the deathly predator. His front paws were strong enough to fell a man with one swipe and his strong jaw with a row of very sharp teeth could easily rip a man to pieces.

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Harry didn't know what was happening. He was aware of the fact that Greyback had been staring at him for quite some time, distant footsteps the only other thing he noticed. In the back of his mind he realised that the Death Eaters to whom the footsteps belonged came to a stop only a few metres away, still hidden in the cornfield. Then suddenly Greyback jumped at him, changing into his wolf form while doing so.

The only thing he could do before the beast collided with him was to push Ginny aside, too surprised to do anything else.

The air was knocked out of him when the werewolf pushed him to the floor. His vision became dark for a moment and all he could see were stars floating around his head. He couldn't think, he couldn't act. He could do nothing else but feel the nauseating feeling the impact on the ground had caused in him.

And then there was nothing else but endless pain. It started out at his shoulder and spread through his whole body, reaching every corner of it.

It rendered him completely motionless, the anguish too overwhelming to do anything else but lie there.

Harry was more than happy when he was finally allowed to pass out. This way he would not experience his excruciating death.

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It didn't happen often but as soon as Fenrir had transformed into his wolf form he lost control over his human senses completely. His primal instincts came to the forefront and they told him to protect. To provide and protect his currently passed out, still not marked mate.

He had to get him away from the stick swinging monsters or else they would harm his vulnerable mate! He wouldn't stand for it!

Letting go of the bitten throat and thus spilling precious lifeblood he looked up from his mate and glared threateningly at the imposing two leg using animals. He could sense their malicious intent for his weak mate. Growling lowly in his throat, he warned the threats to stay away or they wouldn't live for much longer. He would fight to the death to protect his mate. Letting him become hurt would be unacceptable.

The stick swinging menaces stopped in their approach. It seemed they got his warning not to draw any closer. Even that mad smelling bitch appeared to get the message.

Giving one last growl, Fenrir bit gently into his mate's throat to get a hold of him and pulled him carefully into the fields.

When they were far enough away and he felt safe in the depth of the fields, he let go of his mate. It took some effort but as soon as he had regained enough of his human senses, he changed back after letting go of his mate's throat.

Looking at the pup, he still couldn't fathom that he had found his mate. Of all the places he could have found him it had to be here, in the ranks of the enemy.

He was tiny. The earlier assumption that he wasn't as tall as himself was the understatement of the year. Standing straight he would only reach his chest. Yes, of course he had muscles, he would be able to protect himself but he wouldn't stand a chance against Fenrir – then again, nobody would. Following the pup's body downwards, he noticed strong thighs that had fallen open.

Fenrir gulped. They screamed an invitation at him to lay down between them and take what was rightfully his. The interested twitching of his cock was enough indication for him to know that he wasn't opposed to do just that.

Ripping his eyes forcefully from the inviting thighs, his gaze locked on the face of his mate.

Not able to believe the soft and relaxed expression on his unconscious mate's face, Fenrir touched it to make sure he wasn't imagining things. The skin beneath his roughened fingers was smooth and supple. Completely different than it had been before the pup had passed out. When awake he had looked hard and unrelenting, like a real fighter, and now, lying here, fainted as he was, he appeared to be the purest and most fragile being on earth.

Fenrir's probing finger's wandered down the pup's neck, his eyes all the while following. His hand stopped to rest on his mate's other, not injured side of his throat and caressed it softly while his eyes were locked on the blood that streamed out of the wound he had inflicted.

Still stroking his mate, he realised he wanted to taste the blood. Earlier on when he had bitten the pup it had flowed into him, yes, but he had been so high on emotion that he hadn't tasted anything. The bite had only served to change the pup, not to revel in its taste, and not to mark him yet.

Lowering himself to crouch over his mate's form, he leant forwards, hovering over the wound and inspecting the red liquid.

His pupils dilated, saliva was forming in his mouth as the sweet scent of his mate's blood entered his nose.

Leaning downwards, he carefully licked at the blood.

Immediately he was on an emotional high again.

Savouring that little lick of blood as long as possible in his mouth, it did not simply stir feelings of possessiveness and protection in him. It stirred something completely different, something that was now achingly hard and pressed against the pup's mid-section. And he knew he couldn't stop himself from taking the pup for much longer.

He wanted to defile him, to sully him, to finally take him!

But he couldn't do that in this damned field! Although he would love to do just that! Take him and get to know his whole body. Feel his heated skin rub against himself while moaning and whimpering in wild abandon. Needing Fenrir to fill him to the brink and take him in as deep as possible. Submitting completely while Fenrir mounted him, all the while tasting some of his blood. And it would only spur him on even more knowing that he would take the pup's virginity, knowing that he would be the only one his mate would ever submit to.

Because he knew that the pup would never willingly submit to anybody else. His stubbornness would never allow it.

The fight earlier had revealed as much to him.

And he so wanted to deflower his pure mate!

Ripping his pup's shirt into pieces, his eyes immediately fixed on two rosy nubs. Absolutely mouth-watering! He couldn't resist the urge to lean forwards and take one of them into his mouth while twisting the other between his fingers. Beautifully, it fit just beautifully.

His other hand slid down his mate's body, over a firm chest, a taunt stomach, until he reached the waistband of the pup's trousers.

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He felt pain, endless pain. Being prisoner in his own mind, the only thing he could do was suffer through it. He had lived through so many things so why not this as well?

Another wave of agony tore through his body.

Then again... he couldn't even whimper because of his weakened state to make his displeasure known.

The Cruciatus Curse was nothing against this!

Drowning in the dark abyss of his suffering, the mounting anguish pushed him deeper and deeper into the sea of torture.

Suddenly the torment surrounding him diminished some.

The darkness was breached by light and pushed the gloomy atmosphere aside, enveloping him in warmth. The agony started to recede, the warmth now spreading through his whole body and taking the sharp edge out of the anguish he felt. Starting to relax some he dared taking deeper breaths.

He could feel again, feel something other than the excruciating pain wreaking havoc in his body. Something – or rather someone – was caressing his body, chasing away the darkness. Giving himself over to the tender touches he let himself be consumed by the waves of emotion crashing down on him.

XXXXXXXXXXXX

His mate whimpered.

Fenrir recoiled. Yes, he longed to hear his mate whimper, but with need. The whimper he had heard only moments ago was filled with pain.

How could he have forgotten? He had bitten his mate! The change – not to forget the bite itself – would be excruciating! Besides that the bite had been open too long. The blood loss was too much.

He couldn't take his mate! No matter how much he wanted to the pup wasn't up for it! He wasn't even conscious! There would be no fun in it if his mate didn't feel anything he had to offer. The endless pleasure and warmth he would give afterwards. The protection he would provide his mate with. He would never allow anything bad to happen to him! Fenrir would treat him like the most precious thing he possessed.

So no matter how much he wanted to take him he couldn't! He knew he didn't look like it but he wanted to make his mate's first time as special as possible. They would spend the rest of their lives bound together so if his mate found any reason to hate him...!

Senselessly fucking him in a damp field wouldn't do. No matter how much he regretted not to.

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**Could you please leave a ****(very much appreciated) ****review...?**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: **Nothing ours!

**A/N: **First of all, thanks for all of your reviews! We really appreciate them!

And then, this chapter is written by me, der-gestiefelte-kater. I sincerely hope the English is now not as bad as it used to be when I first wrote this chapter down. Luckily I have wofl1 to correct every dreadful mistake I made (so every other mistake there is still left is mine) and I also have to thank her for kicking my arse since I was very busy and otherwise this chapter wouldn't have been posted in years.

This chapter was done in a very long progress of re-reading and re-writing. And then she cursed again about my incompetence, completely marked it again in every possible colour and then everything started over again.

So this was a great deal of work. I hope there is no noticeable difference in the writing style compared to the first chapter as many of you had recommended it quite nicely.

If you don't like this chapter at all, you don't have to quit with our story, because wofl1 is going to write the next one! And it will be a lot better! There is also going to be much more action!

Hope to see you next time. Be patient. Leave a review.

**Warnings: **Some Blood... Some Angst... Some Gore...

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**5 Oct 2012**: Officially restructured, revamped, revised... and probably millions of other things we can't think of right now...

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** 2. The Cave  **

A foreign scent reached Fenrir's nose.

Still crouching above his mate, he sat up while looking around to sniff the air.

Instantly he recognized the heavy and disgusting magic scent of wizards.

Fenrir stiffened. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end, fingernails and fangs elongated. His pupils transformed into slits and a low growl rumbled in the back of his throat.

Nobody would take his mate away from him! Or worse, harm him! Only over his cold and dead body!

His claws pushed into the dirt over his mate's shoulders while his hind legs tensed next to the pup's sides.

His wolf side immediately changed into fighting mode, averse to the idea to leave his mate with wand waving, forest destroying, pack hating wizards. He would not leave him alone now that he had found him after such a long time!

While his snarl was growing louder, another whiff penetrated his nose. In the next instant, confusion hit his already clouded mind when he realized that it was similar to his mate's scent. His rational side supplied the idea that it could be his pup's former family. Former because from this moment onwards, he would take that place. Fenrir and his pack, though he would play a bigger part, would become the most important people to his mate, as it was supposed to be.

He didn't even have to think about it – not that his werewolf induced mind was able to do much of said thinking – he would not leave him with them. They might be his pup's former family but that was no reason to trust them. The possibility of a traitor in their ranks was rather high so why leave him with them? Besides that it was Fenrir's duty to provide for his mate and not somebody else's! He was his to care for and not somebody else's!

The werewolf snapped, his sharp teeth around thin air, imagining an enemy standing in front of him.

"Harry!" An older male voice screamed.

Fenrir's ears perked and he quickly ascertained their distance. His eyes narrowed. They were already too close for his liking. Besides that he didn't like an older MALE voice calling HIS mate by his first name.

Normally he would stay and fight them to the death, wreaking havoc with their bodies and making a real bloodbath out of it, but not with his injured mate so close.

His top priority was to get his pup to safety. It was even more important than tasting their flesh.

Before standing up and cradling his unconscious mate to his chest, he lapped at the bite at the pup's neck to close the wound. One last look around to make sure they wouldn't be ambushed the next moment, he apparated them away.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

They re-appeared in a dark, thick and quiet forest. Every animal and magical creature was sleeping, the nocturnal under them knowing better than to cross his path or even to attack Fenrir, at least if they valued their lives. Still, he would not let his guard down, not with his mate so weak. He didn't question his own skills at protecting him, but he would not take any chances. Even a tiny delay could be enough for his pup to not make it.

And he would do anything to prevent that from happening.

At the thought alone, a low growl escaped his throat, warning everything and anything to stay out of his way.

Taking confident strides on a path unknown to all but him, he went around old trees and through bushes all the while making sure he was jostling his mate as little as possible so he suffered as little discomfort as possible.

Fenrir knew that he couldn't reach his pack with his injured mate. They had to walk a grand distance until they would reach them and the pup wasn't up for it, neither on his own two feet nor being carried. He needed to recover first or else he would collapse and die on the way to them.

Fenrir cursed under his breath. At the moment, he hated the fact that he couldn't take his mate to his pack directly because of the ancient magic surrounding his pack's dwelling. Of course, he was grateful to it most of the time since, first of all it protected them and second it prevented anybody – anybody! – from apparating directly into his pack's territory, but right now, it was way too much trouble.

So another safe place had to do for the pup's recovery.

At his mate's pained whimper he fastened his steps. The blood loss was too high and the pain was too much. The pup needed peace and time to rest. Nobody was to disturb his recovery. Anybody that dared to would be ripped apart in the most painful of ways.

Fenrir bared his teeth at another anguished whimper. His mate would never suffer any pain again. Not if he could prevent it!

Finally, after what seemed to be hours of walking but in reality was just about half an hour they reached their destination.

Scanning the area, he carefully scented the air, his nostrils flaring.

After a short moment of inspection he deemed it safe enough and with one last suspicious look over his shoulder, Fenrir stepped in front of a patch of especially thick shrubbery. Readjusting the pup lying in his arms to free one of his hands, he pushed aside a few of the thick branches to reveal the entrance to a well hidden cave at the outskirts of his pack's territory.

Cautiously, he stepped into the dimly-lit cave and took another whiff of air to make sure nothing had dared to claim it as its own during his long absence, no matter the obvious scent markers.

It would die a painful death, that much was for sure.

But when he could neither smell nor sense anything out of the ordinary in the cave, he entered the hideout fully. He gazed swiftly around the room and ascertained that everything was still where it was supposed to be.

A small, pleased growl escaped Fenrir's lips.

It was as safe as it could be, considering that they were not in the midst of his pack's den.

Fenrir strode over to the back of the cave to a nest of furs and laid his mate down on it he knelt down next to the pup and made sure that his mate was as comfortable as possible, arranging the pile around the thin frame and tightly wrapping thick furs around the pup.

All the while he was silently berating himself for losing control in the first place. Regret was not something that he was on a first name basis with but now it left a strange after taste in his mouth.

Irritated, he gritted his teeth and reached for the leather bag lying next to the sleeping place, never letting his mate out of his sight for long.

Rummaging through the contents, he found several different types of spices and – he made a disgusted face – the _plants_ he had been looking for. Spreading them out on the ground, he cursed profoundly.

Of course he hadn't paid any attention to the healers' doings the one time he had been dragged to her years ago.

Then again, why should he have? Injuries healed with time! And another scar just spoke of another fool who had tried to challenge him – and who had failed! They spoke of his victory and were proof that he was still alive! And the other? Well – he grinned evilly – not.

But that time they had _insisted_ and had blackmailed him into letting someone have a look at the wound – the sneaky bastards!

While treating him she had rambled on and on about salves and _herbs _and how they were made, _harvested_, applied and _used_.

Recalling the situation, she really _had_ tried to drill something useful into his scull. But instead of listening he had just laughed into her face, told her to quit the crap and kiss it better.

Her cheeks had been stained with a blush immediately and she had sighed dramatically – like most bitches tended to do –but hadn't tested his already thin patience any further.

Still, she had insisted to put some of that _stuff_ on his wound and had also tried to bandage his chest though she hadn't gotten far with it. Halfway through wrapping his torso, she had been forced to lean in and had given him a rather nice view of her large tits.

That had been the final straw and his patience had snapped.

Using her momentary imbalance to his advantage, he had grabbed her and had pulled at one of her arms. She had stumbled and fallen into his lap, her mouth deliciously close to his crotch though she had been too stunned to do anything. Instead she had continued to lie there, completely sprawled and all for him to take.

He had fucked her hard, leaving bruises all over her body, and he had smashed a lot of things during the rather enthusiastic rut when he had looked to gain more leverage, but surprisingly the wound hadn't started to bleed again.

So all in all, he had to admit – though rather reluctantly – that the god damned _plants_ had helped a lot.

Yes, listening in the first place certainly would have made things a lot easier now.

Grumbling under his breath, he looked for bandages, took them out of the bag and put them next to the dried herbs.

Then he frowned at them in concentration.

If only he could remember how they were prepared and applied correctly...

Wrecking his brain, he got angrier by every passing second of staring at them, the offending smell of the herbs not helping either, he growled in frustration.

Of course their useless healer wasn't here the _one time_ he really needed her. And if his mate died ...

He snarled. Wait...! He remembered vaguely that the plant with the most disgusting smell ever was for numbing pain and the ugly sweet smelling one was important, too... And that one – he looked at another one – was also used very often...

Taking some of the herbs into his mouth, he chewed on them and mixed them with his saliva to get some sort of herbal paste.

For a moment he swore he couldn't feel his tongue any longer, but the feeling vanished as fast as it had appeared. Then his mind turned fuzzy and it made it hard to think.

He shuddered – at least he knew that the herbs would be good for numbing pain – and uncovered the pup's shoulder.

Examining the bite wound he had left behind, he felt primal joy entering his mind. Soon, his mate would join the ranks of his pack.

Then again, it appeared to still be rather red and angry although he had licked it clean and closed the wound. For some reason, the change seemed to be harder than it should be on his mate.

It was probably because he was so little and underfed. His body just couldn't cope.

Fenrir was about to growl angrily again and swear bloody murder when he almost choked on the herbs still in his mouth.

Remembering the mixture, he spit the herbs onto his mate's injured neck and slowly massaged it in. For once, he was careful in what he was doing and made sure not to nick the pup with his sharp claws. For good measure he applied some of the herbs to the skin around the wound and on an afterthought he forced the pup's mouth open and put some herbs on his tongue.

Satisfied with himself, he moved the unconscious body into a sitting position and thoroughly bandaged the torso.

At that moment, the difference in their heights and widths became very much apparent to Fenrir again.

Laying his mate down again, he took in the pup's unhealthy colour. A sheen of sweat had gathered on his forehead, dampening his fringe. The paleness accentuated sharply the dark lashes that were lying against reddened cheeks.

His eyes narrowed.

Carefully lying down next to his mate as to not jostle him, he watched the occasional shiver wrecking his body, the uneven rising of his chest and the ragged breathing, his eyes taking in even that smallest changes of the pup's condition.

He was worried. The pup hadn't regained consciousness since they had been in the fields.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

Slowly, the heavy fog was easing away, leaving Harry in a lethargic state. His mind felt sluggish and it was hard to hold onto his thoughts for more than mere seconds, making him feel as though his head was full of cotton wool.

His tongue lay oddly heavy in his mouth, feeling swollen and thick. He needed a few moments to convince it to move, but when he finally managed the feat, he could feel the texture of a leaf.

The connection between the leaf and the bitter taste inside of his mouth could only be distantly made, his still muddled mind refusing to work properly and to wake up. His throat felt scratchy, though if it was because of the leaf he couldn't figure out.

Prying his eyes open slowly – they felt a bit crusty – he needed a moment to adjust to the twilight. And even after that he still couldn't make out anything properly.

His glasses had to be... somewhere... he thought, his mind too drugged to come up with anything else.

It was too hot and stuffy to think rationally but at the same time he wasn't feeling warm enough. Shivers wrecked his body without a pause and his teeth started clattering in a cold sweat. He was completely drenched in sweat and it plastered his hair to his forehead.

A dark shadow above him caught his attention. His unfocused eyes could make out some sort of movement, but what was going on was too much for him.

Then something wet and blissfully cold was laid on his forehead. He sighed in relief and closed his eyes while the fog was finally starting to lift itself a bit.

In the next moment, something warm was laid down next to him.

Maybe a heater? But wizards had warming charms, so there was no need for one...

He opened his eyes again and tried to see what the thing next to him was but his vision was all blurry and fuzzy. Contours and colours were the only things he was able to see, so it was rather hard to recognise the thing.

He huffed in annoyance at his own inability and stared at the shadow, hard, determined to identify it despite his fever induced mind. His eyes took in the grey, dark and beige blobs which filled most of his vision.

But only a moment later a wave of nauseousness hit him and his head started to ache so much he had to close eyes momentarily.

Harry had to have hit his head pretty hard, he thought and tried to move his hand to touch it, but for some reason or other he couldn't.

Confused, he reopened his eyes, only to close them again because the sudden brightness had stung his sensitive irises.

Sighing in discomfort, he tried to shift but noticed that he was restricted in his movement. He frowned and shifted again, feeling fur sliding smoothly over his bare arms, baring them to the cold.

Shivering because of the unfamiliar sensation of fur on his skin and the sudden coldness seeping in, he whimpered. Immediately he tried to roll in on himself to make himself as small as possible to compensate the existing warmth, but the strain on his weakened body was making that task very hard.

He stilled abruptly, freezing in his pathetic attempt of curling in on himself, when the shadow moved again. His eyes grew wide when the fur was being lifted and he felt an arm sneak around his waist, pulling him effortlessly against something hot.

Then the fur was brought back up to his chin and it was tucked around him tightly. Warmth enveloped him, making him feel safe and secure and he drifted off into a deep slumber.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

Fenrir stretched out lazily across the furs and afterwards looked down at the black mop of hair that was lying next to him.

The pup had regained consciousness for the first time sometime that morning. The first rays of sunlight hadn't even reached the cave's entrance through the thick canopy of leaves yet when the little one had opened his eyes. He had only been awake for a few moments and at first he had been lying next to him, completely motionless and helpless, just like a newborn pup. Soon, though, he had become a bit more active, but had still been rather disorientated.

He would probably wake up soon and then he would be very hungry. Every new wolf was so it wouldn't be all that surprising. The little one would need all those fancy nutrients they kept rambling about, which he would get from the meat. It was essential to survive the change!

So in theory, Fenrir had to go out and hunt. And while one part of him wanted to provide for his newly turned mate, another part didn't want to leave the still weakened pup alone.

A large part of him screamed at himself not to move away from the little one AT ALL, not when the fever had only broken the night before and the shivering had just subsided this morning. The possibility that his condition would worsen again was still too high.

Then again, how was the pup supposed to get better if he didn't get anything in his stomach? He needed all the proteins and shit to get better again and to become a strong wolf. And considering how small he was he would really need lots of meat...

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

Back in the forest, Fenrirfollowed a fresh trail of wild game. Excited, his nose twitched at the tasty scent of his prey.

Slowly he moved through the bushes and around trees, crouching down when he neared in on her, his eyes gleaming with joy.

There she was, standing proudly in the middle of a meadow surrounded by fresh patches of grass covered in dew.

Nevertheless, her ears stood at attention for any danger advancing in on her while she was eating the disgusting green stuff. Her brown and healthy fur was glowing in the morning sun, making the whole scene a beautiful picture.

Fenrir grinned evilly, revealing his sharp teeth.

And what a _beautiful_ picture! He wanted to sink his fangs into her soft throat, cutting open her jugular and breaking her neck, all the while spraying her precious blood onto the green carpet.

Keeping tabs on her, he readied himself to attack, flexing his fingers around his hunting knife.

She wasn't a match for him at all. There was no way in hell that she could get away from him.

Sometimes he wondered why he even bothered to hunt the old-fashioned way. After all nobody could match his strength and agility, especially in this environment. The forest was his domain. Here he could hide easily and strike unexpectedly, therefore the advantage while hunting was always on his side.

And sneaking around the prey to ambush it when they anticipated it the least brought endless satisfaction to his wolf-side.

The only chance his prey had at escaping was for them to outrun him in the open and vast landscape and even then that possibility was next to none-existent.

Over the years, he had gotten so much experience that he could successfully hunt without the aid of his pack even though he still preferred hounding his prey with them.

Hounding required an almost never-ending patience, meaning that they would be lying some time in wait for their prey to appear. But you also needed a strategic mindset and overall teamwork. One had to rush the chosen prey and at his, their alpha's, sign the first group would cut off the prey's escape, making it dash into another direction where more wolves would be waiting.

Therefore, hunting was considered a some sort of social event that strengthened the sense of belonging and togetherness. A good hunting arrangement usually spoke for a good pack atmosphere.

Contrary to public belief werewolves were not loners. They lived and hunted in packs, very similar to real wolves. They, too, preferred the closeness and security a pack provided. The wolf craved a pack and living without one led to god damned loneliness. Besides, lately it was done particularly out of necessity. The wizards had become more ostracising than ever before and it was harder to attack or kill you if you were living in a pack.

Now that he thought about it, their huntings had been a bit less successful than was normal, too, and this year hadn't been hard on the forest inhabitants...

The doe's movement in front of him ripped him from his thoughts.

Scenting the air again, Fenrir realised that the wind would soon change directions. She would be able to discover him then because he wouldn't be downwind from her any longer.

So he had to either change his location or attack her.

Cautiously, he readjusted his crouching position and flexed his muscles.

In one swift movement he charged at her.

Her head snapped up and in his direction, her eyes wide in panic as she recognised the predator in him. She tried to flee with quick darts of her long legs but he was already on top of her, wrestling her down.

Fighting as much as she could, she finally collapsed under his sudden and heavy weight.

Happily, he bit down on her throat and swiftly cut her windpipe with the long blade. Slowly he let go of her suffocating form and stabbed her heart, causing her a quick death.

He had to hurry. The pup would wake up soon.

Fenrir was giddy with anticipation. As soon as his mate would have risen from his slumber and would have eaten, he would be thoroughly inspected, caressed and kissed.

Sadly, the pup wouldn't be up for much more than that.

But before Fenrir could do anything of the like he had to make sure that the little one really would eat enough. The pup was way too skinny in some places for his liking!

Did the wizards not feed him properly? Why else was he able to feel the hard lines of bones when they had been lying together?

Unconsciously gritting his teeth, Fenrir swore that he would punish the people responsible for his mate's bad shape. Nobody treated his mate so bad and lived through it! Didn't they realize what malnourishment did to one's body?

In Fenrir's mind there was no question about it. The pup was still gorgeous and smelled so intoxicating he got a hard-on only THINKING about his scent, but still, the skinny frame of his mate wasn't healthy!

Now that he was here, however, that would change. His mate would never have to suffer hunger ever again! Fenrir would see to it that he would always have enough food!

He realised of course that his mate brought a soft side to the forefront, one that he hadn't known up until now, but frankly he didn't care, as strange as that sounded.

In the past he had thought of tender feelings as something pathetic and weak. The need to have someone of his own and protect said someone never even crossed his mind. Always he had looked down on those who would go on the 'long journey' to find their 'other half'.

He snorted. To treat someone with care, trying not to hurt them in any way was something completely foreign to him.

The bitches he had taken – occasionally a male as well – never complained about his rough treatment, but now...

Inwardly, Fenrir cringed. If anybody got to know about his wolf purring in delight in his mate's presence, the whole Wizarding World would laugh at him!

He grabbed for his hunting knife, clenching his fist tightly around it. His sharp eyes focused on the dead body lying in the grass.

But if they thought he had grown soft they were sorely mistaken! Only his little pup – and on occasion his pack – would experience his softer side.

Vigorously he stabbed it into the doe's body and sliced the stomach else! They weren't worth it and deserved to see it even less! They had allowed his mate to become so thin! They definitely didn't deserve it!

But getting worked up now didn't help matters at all! He huffed and gutted the dead body with an occasional grumble.

Although the doe was quite the catch, the little one wouldn't appreciate her raw and bloody like Fenrir himself did. The pup's transformation hadn't advanced far enough for that yet.

He couldn't wait for his mate to crave it the werewolf style. The opportunity it would present to Fenrir to ravish his mate! Oh, the image! Drops of blood running down the little one's chin, throat and over the collarbone, drawing a delicate line down his mate's marvellous body, highlighting the pup's delicious frame. If he was lucky the blood would even reach the little one's nipples!

Forcefully ripping himself from the mouth-watering picture, Fenrir slung her dead and gutted body over his shoulder, adjusted her weight and started to make his way back to the cave.

When had been the last time he had cooked something?

Something inside of him shivered at the thought of cooked meat, but as long as his mate preferred it to the raw version, he would do it, just to please him.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

Exhausted, Harry snuggled deeper into the soft mattress he was lying on. His hands searched around for the lost blanket and once found pulled it back up to his chin.

Waiting for sleep to come he noticed the noisy chirping of birds in the garden and the loud roar of the ghoul. The curtains must have been pulled aside and it had to be in the middle of the day because it was already too bright outside for Harry's liking. It made drifting off again rather difficult.

Burying his head deeper into the comfortable pillow, he tried to ignore the annoying animals and go back to sleep.

It took only moments for him to realise that he would have no success in doing so.

As if sensing that Harry was awake someone started moving around the room. Whatever they were doing they weren't very smooth about it.

Why the hell was somebody in his and Ron's room? Normally nobody would be here at this hour and Ron wouldn't be up and about until somebody whispered the word "Lunch" into his ear.

Then again it could be that Ron was already awake and didn't want to bother his friend in case he had had a nightmare and had found sleep difficultly.

"Ron?" He asked against his better judgement. He just knew it couldn't be him and wasn't surprised when he heard no answer.

Instead of that he heard a low grumble, almost a growl in some distance.

What the...?

The footsteps were retreating and something fell to the floor – a pot maybe?

Groaning softly in annoyance, he fumbled for his glasses that were usually lying on the night stand beside him. He was more than surprised when the only thing he found was an empty and hard stony surface. There was no way that that was his table.

Now he was more than puzzled.

Opening his eyes, he realised that he wasn't lying in his bed at all. It wasn't even a real bed but some make shift thingy out of furs.

Sitting bolt upright, he looked around frantically – which was a bad idea because at once pain shot through his left side, letting him sink forwards and moan in anguish.

Confused, he peered down at it. To his knowledge it shouldn't have hurt at all.

His eyes widened as he saw that his left shoulder was bandaged. He was about to wonder why when he noticed that his clothes were missing.

Instantly, all thoughts concerning his injury were forgotten.

Quickly pulling aside the furs, he breathed a sigh of relief as he saw that he was still wearing his boxer shorts.

What. The. Hell?

What had happened? Who had taken away his clothes? Who was that pervert?

And even more important, where the hell was he? And how had he gotten here?

Looking around, he noticed that he was definitely not in his and Ron's room.

What was going on?

He was in some kind of... cave? How did he get here? Why was he here? Where was Ginny? What had happened to the rest of his family?

The last thing he remembered was being in the fields with Ginny, fighting Death Eaters.

The sudden rustling of wings and the following deathly silence caught his attention. His muscles tensed while he was waiting for some predator to appear. Harry readied himself to jump out of the way at any given moment. His ears were perked for any sound at all. He shuddered when suddenly there was a snapping noise and something entered the cave.

His gaze snapped to the figure at the entrance, needing to shield his eyes against the blinding sun. Harry could make out nothing except for the fact that the figure was, indeed, human, but large, broad, a bit crouched and definitely male – no female could have such a strong built!

As soon as the person stepped into the shadow of the cave, Harry could make out the reason for the man's crouched stance. He was carrying a dead doe, spilling its blood all over the floor and himself.

Disgusted, because really, who could relish in killing innocent animals, the-boy-who-lived looked up into the man's face.

Blood was smeared all over the man's face and was dipping down his chin.

His heart missed a beat when Harry stared at the horrible features of one Fenrir Greyback.

An iron fist closed around his heart, squeezing tightly and paralysed his entire body. He tried to breathe but his red blood cells were not transporting enough oxygen for him to formulate an adequate plan.

Subconsciously, he knew that he had to get away from the beast but his brain wasn't able to come up with something worthwhile. Instead he crawled backwards, watching Greyback as he put down the game, knelt down besides it and started to slice off parts of it.

He felt the bile rise and tried not to vomit when its skin was pulled back and huge chunks of meat were cut out off from the poor animal. Blood tinted the ground beneath it while Greyback was now arm deep in...

His head turned away in disgust, but it was not fast enough to avoid the gruesome sight.

However, he could not stop himself from looking back again in the next moment, watching hypnotised as muscles and bones were revealed...

Shocked, he tried to move farther away from the monster but his back hit a stony wall. Suddenly, stabbing pang shot through his shoulder, making him feel dizzy and ill.

Convulsing painfully, he tried to steady himself when he almost fell over. Blackness threatened to overwhelm him.

His clouded mind noticed Greyback swirling around and approaching him in fast and long strides, but the thought of his impending death didn't even cross his mind. Instead he sobbed and tried to suppress thepaincoursing through his body.

Fighting back the agony he finally managed to gain back control over his sight and breathing.

Greyback was right in front of him, looming over him.

He was going to kill him!

Harry closed his eyes and waited for the first slash to his throat which would cause his painful demise.

But no sudden throbbing ran through his form. No darkness enveloped him in its cold arms.

There was a long moment in which nothing happened.

A dead silence had lied itself over the cave.

Harry's own heartbeat thundered in his ears, pounding against his ribcage.

Suddenly he felt strong, calloused hands at his left shoulder. Completely unprepared for the touch, he flinched at the sudden contact.

What was the beast doing? Why hadn't he killed him already?

Against his better judgement he peeked through his lashes out of one of his eyes.

Ripped abs came into view accompanied by a trail of silver hair leading downwards.

Not realising what he was doing, he glanced further down only to be met with strong and parted muscular thighs kneeling on the ground. His gaze snapped up to Greyback's face. Grey stubble on a strong jaw greeted his sight. Wild, silver hair framed roughened features. A deep frown marred the man's forehead. Greyback's amber eyes were fixed on the shoulder where a clawed hand lied.

Suddenly the beast's eyes turned to him, boring into his green irises. A grin appeared on the monster's lips, showing off his sharp canines. Eyes widening in shock, Harry suppressed the urge to jump. Otherwise Greyback's deathly claws would dig into his wound, hurting him.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

The insolent pup had hurt himself while crawling away from him! His stupid little mate was terrified of him! And unfortunately, Fenrir knew exactly why. It was no wonder considering his history...

Still! That was no reason for the impudent pup to escape from him! As if he would ever hurt his mate! He was so angry he could punch the wall! But again that would only intimidate him more...

Andof course the little one didn't know that he wouldn't hurt him... he tried to berate himself. But it wasn't as if he would believe him when he told him anyway, he thought bitterly. Who would in their right mind? ...

Desperation claimed him because on the one hand he knew that he was the reason for the little one's angst, on the other he knew that he couldn't do anything about it. At least nothing that would work instantly.

Gritting his teeth, he set to gently peel off the blood soaked bandage. The injury had reopened again because the pup had pushed his shoulder against the spiky and stony surface.

The wound had been very deep and thus had showed of the collarbone which had been broken by him – definitely not one of Fenrir's more gentle actions. It was during these moments that he regretted to have never learned any healing spells. Most of the time herbs were all that he needed and that came naturally to him. His wolf told him which herbs were poisonous and which were life-restoring. However, they didn't fix broken bones! For that he needed to get to the pack soon and have one of the healers have a look at his mate, as much as he hated the thought of it.

The fresh blood that was streaming out of the reopened wound he could deal with.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

Mesmerised, he had watched while Greyback had taken care of his wound. It was completely lost on him why the werewolf was helping him and not killing him or serving him on a silver platter to Voldemort.

Or did the monster want to deliver Harry to him in one piece and healed? So that Voldemort would have as much fun murdering him as possible? Or did he already know of the beast's possession of him and had ordered Greyback to heal him?

But wouldn't there be someone better to do the job? Like Snape for example?

Harry closed his eyes against the all-consuming wave of pain that had reappeared when the beast had taken off the dirty bandage and had started to finger the wound.

All of a sudden something wet and warm was moving against his throat, leaving a damp trail while making its path downwards. Hot air ghosted over his moist skin. Goose bumps appeared.

Curiosity getting the better of him, he opened his eyes. The tip of his nose was only inches away from being bumped into by a bulky shoulder. His breath hitched.

When had Greyback gotten that close?

Seeing silver hair out of the corner of his eyes, all pieces fell into place as he realised that the wet thing at his neck was actually a tongue. Greyback's tongue.

He. Was. Licking. Him.

Before he could do anything at all, punch him in the face or kick him in the groin or anything AT ALL for that matter, burning fire shot through his shoulder.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

He was in heaven. If there existed anything like that he certainly was.

Or was it hell? Something that sinful could only mean he was in hell.

It was pure torture. Sitting here, licking at his mate's neck to disinfect the wound, he couldn't do anything else, although he wanted to very badly. He wanted to lick him. He wanted to caress him. He wanted to mount him. He wanted to completely own him!

But alas he couldn't.

Damn it. The closeness and the delicious blood of his pup had caused him a hard-on – again!

So how to get rid of it when he couldn't take what was his obviously?

Leaning back away from his mate's tasty blood, he gathered some herbs, put them in his mouth and chewed on them until they developed their full potential of healing powers. Afterwards he spit them onto the pup's injury and smeared them over the large gash. When he was done,he wrapped the little one's shoulder and carried the unconscious form back to the furs.

As soon as he had started to clean the wound the pup had blacked out.

He deeply wished that it had been from exhaustion... but he knew better... The smell of pain and fear seemed to cling to the pup once again... and who would have thought that he would hate it so much one day?

He snorted at the irony of it all, and laid his mate back down onto the furs as gentle as he could muster.

And who would have thought that he – the most feared werewolf of all times – would someday do something gentle and caring...?

Damn! This was really fucked up - No! HE was really fucked up!

But he just couldn't help it...

Old Greyback was growing soft, he thought warily while his fingers combed through the messy mob of black hair.

One day the little one would be a very beautiful wolf.

And he would be his.

* * *

**Honest criticism is still very much appreciated! See you next time. **


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** Hi there! Sorry for the late chapter but life was a pain! Neither der-gestiefelte-Kater nor I did have much of time lately and when we finally did have time to ourselves we were quite exhausted and thus weren't really in the mood to write anything at all!

Besides that this chapter was rather hard to write, no idea why though... Somewhere in the middle of it we lost our muse for a short amount of time because of the difficult time we had to write this (by that time it only was half of what it is now).

And then der-gestiefelte-kater said she wanted to have a Christmas gift and I was screwed! I had no idea what to give to her so I decided to write this little crappy oneshot for her (attention please! surreptitious advertising) and tadaaa! my muse struck again and I wrote about 4500 words in 3 fucking days... So in the end it's about the same length chapter 1 and 2 have together...

By the way if you should wonder... In the beginning of the writing time we had just baked a gingerbread house so we were constantly on a suggar high... So don't be surprised for the rather strange chains of thoughts... In the end (the last 3 days) I was obsessed with this song... (I rather not tell you because it's an awful lot romantic and although I can't hear it any more because I'm gonna vomit the next time I hear it I STILL can't stop myself from clicking the repeat button) I was singing along while I was writing angsty scenes and Fenrir's rather... expressive... thoughts and his rather expressive discriptions of tearing bodies apart... Y_Y Not to forget his date with his own hand (his handjob XD)...

**Review Replies**

_Basill:_that's right XDbut there aren't enough decent snarrys either (maybe we are just too addicted to fanfictions XD)

_DMHPsasunaru: _you'll have to wait to see Harry's reaction when he realizes that he's Fenrir's mate ^^ He's too occupied with other things in this chapter to notice anything XD

_Iced tears: _Good question. Haven't thought about that yet. Maybe a bit but not in this chapter. Have patience and see for yourself ^^

_BonneNuit: _Thanks for the compliment! We were afraid they wouldn't stay in character for long though we try our hardest! Hope they're still not out of it XD

_adenoide: _You have to see for yourself^^ But you'll get a hint in this chapter

_Aisling-Siobhan: _Thanks for the compliment :)

Thanks to all the other reviewers as well!

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!

**Disclaimer: **Still nothing ours!

**Warnings: **language (we're dealing with Fenrir FUCKING Greyback, the fucking Alpha of the whole werewolf population in Great Britain XD), slight gore (again, we're dealing with Fenrir...), slight gore, a bit of angst, shitty thoughts, crappy handjob

* * *

**3. The Escape **

Harry had no idea how long he had already been away from his family.

The rising and setting of the sun had begun to merge with each other as soon as he had slipped into unconsciousness for the first time, so he had lost count of the past days. Hours and days had flown by while he had been drifting at the edge of awareness, never completely awake, but never exactly asleep, either, falling victim to the fever his wound caused.

The rare times he had been awake had been very uncomfortable for him.

Being constantly supervised by a set of vicious amber eyes took its toll on his psyche. They even followed him into his feverish dreams, controlling most of them with an evil glare directed his way.

It crept him out to no end!

Nervousness, though, was the least of his feelings he felt towards those unsettling and insane eyes.

He felt literally naked, defenceless, under the close surveillance of the cold beast. Instincts were all that mattered to the werewolf, Harry just knew it. One look into Greyback's mad eyes told him that he was mentally shredding Harry to pieces, enjoying the still warm blood running out of Harry's torn off body parts and the human flesh on his tongue.

It didn't help any that he was wrapped in thick furs that were holding him down. If Greyback decided to attack him then Harry had no time to react at all. They only increased his feelings of vulnerability and insecurity next to the huge man.

Harry's fingers were itching to close around his wand, but he knew it wasn't with him... It would have beem the only thing that would've stood between Greyback and his own death. And as far as he knew it had been the beast who had taken it away from him. After all, who else should have come here and taken it if not the monster itself? Harry didn't think that Greyback would allow anyone or anything to enter his territory without his permission.

The boy-who-lived cursed his luck. Of course he met Greyback when the beast's mind was somewhat rational! Otherwise he wouldn't have taken Harry's wand! He had had to have realised that it was Harry's only defence against him. Just his fucking luck! Why couldn't anything just go his way? At least once in his life?

Without it he had not even the slightest chance to protect himself. It was like presenting himself to Greyback on a silver platter! There was nothing he could do if the werewolf wanted to harm him in any way. He was at his mercy!

And honestly, who would believe in their right mind that Greyback would just sit by and do nothing? Especially with a chance this easy?

Damn it! His life just couldn't get any worse!

Then again if Voldemort appeared at the entrance of the cave out of nowhere...

Mentally, Harry snorted. He just couldn't think of Voldemort stepping so low and enter a cave. The image was just so... strange...

He was, of course, aware of Greyback not attacking or hurting him yet, but that didn't have to mean anything. The fact that he had approached him occasionally to change the bandage around his neck didn't mean anything, either! He still didn't trust that monster!

After all, Greyback wasn't one of the most feared men for nothing!

The bastard had killed little children! Ripped them apart! Turned them just for the fun of it! He had destroyed and still continued to destroy normal lives and families on purpose! He didn't have anything akin to a conscience at all and he most certainly didn't feel regret!

This knowledge did nothing to improve Harry's mood. He had never felt so helpless before, not at the Dursleys' or when he had faced all these evil creatures. His current situation was completely different from everything he had ever experienced before in all his past years.

At the Dursleys' he had always known that there would be an end to it, either the summer break or Dudley tiring of bullying him. He had faced down the Basilisk and even then he had known at some point that he wasn't alone. His friends were close by to take care of him – dead or alive – and that had reassured him in fighting the enormous snake.

But now …

There was no Dumbledore to send the sword of Griffindor, there was no Fawkes to heal his wounds, there were no protective wards. He was cut off the outside world.

It was hopeless. He was going to die in this pathetic cave or rot away in some undetectable place.

The Order would never find him alive.

There was no chance he would ever see his friends again.

Their smiling faces. Their happiness radiating off of them when being hugged by him...

He tried to picture them, how they would find him and rescue him for once. But he failed completely. He couldn't imagine them! They were only blurred silhouettes in his feverish mind.

Rubbing over his face in hopes of suppressing his sad thoughts he noticed the wetness on his cheeks. Confused, he held his hand in front of his eyes to study it and realized that it were tears. He hadn't cried since he had been a little boy! And even then only if his aunt and uncle couldn't see him or they would become even angrier at him than before!

Desperately attempting to prevent the tears from streaming down his cheeks he tried to think positively.

He was not that alone, he had his friends, and the Weasleys, and Ginny, he scolded himself. But the lump forming in his throat only tightened more while his mind supplied blurry images of the rare happy moments in his life.

It was useless. He could also just … just … damn it! He didn't know!

He didn't dare to continue that line of thought. His situation was pointless!

Desperation claimed his heart. The darkness of his thoughts was overwhelming, squashing every light that was about to form in his mind. His body, heavy with sadness and hopelessness, refused to cooperate with his mind which berated him not to lose his spirit. But even if he calmed himself, Harry knew that it was for naught. Greyback would kill him no matter what. There was no way out for him!

His heart ached painfully in his chest, making breathing and thinking hard. Clutching the soft furs tighter around him he cried until darkness gladly took his exhausted mind to another place.

Deeply immersed in his foggy mind, he barely noticed a hand on his forehead, carefully caressing it. Warmth emitted from the appendage, spreading through his whole body, fending off the darkness and alleviating some of his painful thoughts. It cut right through his distress, chasing it away. A soothing scent reached his nostrils, fighting his torment.

He did not know what could be strong enough to overpower his torture, but at the moment he did not care, for he was drifting back into an untroubled slumber, two glowing ambers the only thing that remained in his mind.

XXXXXXXXXXX

A loud smash startled Harry wide awake, tearing through the peaceful night. Not knowing what had just happened, he did not dare to open his eyes and instead strained his ears to get a better perception of the situation. He held his breath and tried hard not move a muscle so he wouldn't give himself away. His heart was pounding in his chest, sending adrenaline rushing through his body. The pulsing blood in his ears almost overwhelmed his sense of hearing, but he could still make out a deep growling and heavy footsteps moving around.

What had that been?

Was there somebody in his close proximity?

Cautious not to make a sound, he moved the thick fur aside to take a peek into the darkness. Only a few rays of light illuminated the black cave. Obscure shadows moved over the cold stone walls, resembling the branches of the thick trees which were swaying in the wind outside of the cave. His eyes focused on one corner nearby the entrance and widened when he spotted a tall man that could only be Greyback. Funnily enoug,h one of his arms was extended, his fist connecting with a dent in the wall. Swallowing Harry double-checked what he was witnessing.

Was it really possible? No...

Greyback couldn't be that strong!

...Could he?

No. The idea was preposterous. No one could be that strong! It was just NOT POSSIBLE!

A feral snarl interrupted Harry's amazement. His eyes widened in fear and he became terrified as the deep, guttural and animalistic sound vibrated through his body, horrifying his every cell. Harry had no idea what had happened to upset the beast so, but he knew that Greyback was more than dangerous in this state.

But if Harry was lucky the monster wouldn't notice his presence. However, that didn't change the fact that danger was radiating off of Greyback in waves.

Harry didn't even have to do anything for Greyback to murder him without reason, acting on his mood! He could kill him at any given moment!

Volatile couldn't even begin to describe Greyback's moods! One moment he was calm and didn't seem to be able to harm an innocent flower, the next he was wreaking havoc and made a blood bath! And now he was pacing and cursing like a drunken sailor!

It was only a matter of time until one of those moods struck and the beast would either bring him to Voldemort or kill him on the spot.

Although in Greyback's terms "kill him on the spot" meant suffering a painful and slow death...

Damn it! He had to get out of here before either of these two options could happen! Otherwise not only the Wizarding World would be screwed but he as well! And to be honest he didn't want to die at the delicate age of sixteen!

XXXXXXXXXXX

Inwardly, Fenrir seethed.

The bastard had been bugging him for days! Who did Voldemort think he was? His fucking lapdog?

Damn the sucker! He had his own tasks to do and couldn't execute all of Voldemort's orders!

But nonetheless the bastard thought he would listen to his every whim! Fenrir wasn't even an official member! After all, he didn't bear the Dark Mark. He was too strong to submit himself to such a nut job like the so called Dark Lord. He had his pride damn it. And there was no way in hell that he would bow, grovel at the "Lord's" feet or kiss the his filthy robe.

Not. A. Fucking. Chance!

Voldemort and him were more like business partners. Every now and then they would do each other a favour by – ah they had such a pretty expression for it, he couldn't suppress a smirk tugging at his lips – "disposing of a public nuisance". That meant eliminating irritating people on the one side – most of the time that was Fenrir and his pack's job – and on the other side supporting the other financially, politically or in which ever other way that existed – usually that was Voldemort's part in return for Fenrir's services.

And Voldemort tended to do as little as possible...

In fact they were merely tolerating each other to some extent, always considering the advantages beforehand and if there was the slightest chance of a disadvantage existing in their bargain, they ignored the freshly given job completely.

The only thing he really appreciated about Voldemort was that he allowed Fenrir and his pack members to revel in the flesh of humans, hunting where they wanted without being afraid of an attack of those pathetic wand-wavers.

And now he was annoying the hell outta him! The bastard wanted to talk to him and hadn't stopped activating that stupid ring that would tell Fenrir that Voldemort wanted something!

Fenrir, however, had ignored the call up until now.

What was the bastard thinking? That he would come whenever he called? What if Fenrir had pack problems to deal with? He certainly wouldn't come then! His pack was his first priority.

Then again, Voldemort had never understood that little fact and demanded his immediate attention, no matter what...

Not that the bastard had gotten it...

However, there was no way to ignore the pushy bastard any longer. What a pain in the arse! His patience was already wearing thin. Who did Voldemort think he was? The king or something? He snorted inwardly. The image of Voldemort with a crown on his head and a mace in his hand was just too amusing.

He would go to him and see what his fucking problem was!

Although Fenrir already had a pretty good idea...

Stroking one last time over the pup's forehead, he went to the exit of the cave.

The little one would survive some hours without him, even though Fenrir hated to leave him. No predator would dare enter this cave because Fenrir's scent was too heavy in the air, indicating that he would kill anything that plundered in his cave.

XXXXXXXXXXX

Right now seemed to be the perfect moment to escape because Greyback had disappeared. Who knew where to and who knew when he would come back. Maybe this would be Harry's only chance to flee.

He just couldn't let his future be in the hands of some maniacs. There was no way he would die like this! They had been ruling his whole life. Now he could at least choose how he would take his leave!

Steadying himself on the stony surface of the cave wall, he carefully got to his feet. Setting one foot in front of the other he was slowly moving towards the entrance of the cave. Every step was taken with great effort, sweat had already broken out all over his body.

Stopping for a moment to get back his bearings he looked around. He was only halfway to the entrance and he was already this exhausted. Gasping for air he slid down the wall of the cave.

There was no way he could make it! Even if he got outside and felt the sun tingle his skin, he would be too tired to make a run for it. And then the werewolf would most likely catch him. And then...

He stopped thinking about these dark thoughts abruptly. It didn't help his motivation any if he got himself all depressive. With an attitude like this there was no way he would make it! And if he didn't make it he, Ron, Hermione, his friends, Hogwarts, Ginny and everything that was dear to him would be lost! He couldn't let that happen!

Besides he hadn't even tried to escape yet! If he didn't try he would never know if he would've managed! And if he remained in the cave he would be dead in a few days anyway – or even hours for that matter!

There wouldn't be an opportunity like this again! Pushing himself up onto unsteady legs he set his mind on reaching the light shining in through the entrance of the cave. He took hesitant steps forwards in the direction of the exit, slowly approaching it. Stumbling into the light, he blinked and once his eyes were focused he was frightened by what he saw.

XXXXXXXXXXX

"Why has that taken so long?" Voldemort sneered, baring his teeth, red eyes glowing as if to intimidate him. Fenrir wasn't a person to react very well to such impertinent behaviour especially if it could be considered almost a provocation.

Growling at the gathered arse kissing, unworthy lackeys, he was very satisfied as they cowered in fear and – dare he say it – he could even smell some of them having pissed themselves.

"A good evening to you as well." Fenrir mumbled vexed, being the only one able to hear it.

He had just arrived and he was already being bitched at. Maybe Voldemort had to get laid. So the Death Eaters weren't good for anything after all...

Silently gritting his teeth, he contemplated if he could just rip him to pieces for his rude behaviour. The pleasure and satisfaction would be endless! He would no longer have to bear with Voldemort's moods and orders... That would definitely be a plus.

Without him around Fenrir wouldn't be bound to some crazy maniac any longer, he wouldn't have to listen to the bastard's endless bickering, and he definitely wouldn't have to carry out some stupid orders. He would be his own master again – not that Voldemort was his master, but that stupid bastard thought so and thus meddled with his life.

It would be so easy it almost wouldn't be worth it. After all, Fenrir loved to play with his prey... and Voldemort would never anticipate an attack like that.

He would ram his canines into the so called Dark Lord's – uuhhh, he was so afraid – throat and rip it out, spilling his filthy blood!

His wolf yearned for him to subdue Voldemort and show him who of them both was the alpha!

"I had issues to take care of." Fenrir finally answered.

The faces of the attending Death Eaters would be so beautiful, distorted in shock, helplessness, confusion and most importantly fear!

Oh they would smell so magnificently beautiful!

"What issues?" Voldemort asked impatiently, his fingers drumming on the armrest of the distasteful chunk of wizard made furniture.

The wizarding world would be beyond itself! It would have a field day!

Fenrir could already imagine the head line!

'Thought-to-be loyal Death Eater kills He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named viciously! Where is the Boy-Who-Lived?"

Immediately his raging thoughts stopped at the mentioning of his mate.

He was not alone any longer. Not that he had ever been alone because of his pack. But now he had a mate. A mate and a pack were completely different things.

A mate was something to cherish, a pack something to look after.

A mate was something to take care of, a pack something to supervise.

A mate was something to provide for, a pack something to guide.

A mate was something to love, a pack something to like.

A mate was something to die for, a pack something to protect.

He had to get out of here somehow without getting killed. Because even if the possibility of him getting killed was almost next to none existent he couldn't think that way any longer.

"Has it something to do with Potter?" Voldemort sneered, disrupting Fenrir's ramblings.

Startled out of his thoughts – he didn't show it to the outside, though – he stared at the bastard.

How should he reply to that? One wrong answer and he had to deal with a bunch of stick swinging arseholes, closing in on him and being the most annoying menaces he had ever faced.

Damn it, he hated this! How the hell did he even know about that incident? After all, Voldemort wouldn't refer to this if he hadn't a clue what had happened that fateful night, right?

"What do you mean?" Fenrir finally replied in a gruff voice.

Voldemort's fingers tightened around the armrest and he snarled, "Bellatrix told me about what has happened at the place of these filthy blood traitors. You attacked what is rightfully MINE!"

His? HIS? What was that bastard thinking? The little one wasn't Voldemort's! He was Fenrir's!

Damn it! How DARE he? How the FUCKING HELL dare he? Oh he so longed to close his fingers around the bloody fucker's fragile throat and throttle him until he slipped into oblivion. But even then he wouldn't stop! He would tighten his hold so that the delicate neck snapped under the strong pressure.

But he knew he fucking couldn't!

Trying to calm himself down – however, his anger still seethed near the surface – he berated himself. He had to treat carefully! He couldn't kill him! Not with so many potential enemies around!

"The brat was rescued before I could do anything... dreadful... to him." Fenrir gritted out through clenched teeth.

Sometimes he really HATED having ever allied himself with Voldemort.

What had him driven back then anyway? He must have been nuts giving in to his pathetic instincts! Honestly! He could live without tearing humans apart! Deer would do just fine!

Why couldn't the magical worms have let them live in peace? It would have been so much easier if Fenrir and his pack had been ignored! But no! They had to have been sought out! And Fenrir and his stupid urges hadn't been able to resist the delicious offer!

"Oh, couldn't little wolfy do his job righty?" Bellatrix chanted. She sat on the floor next to the bastard's throne. It almost seemed as if she wanted to be petted by him. Dim-witted dog...

"Wasn't wolfy trained appropriately?" She asked in a condescending manner. Her boobs were nearly falling out of her tight corset while a bold tongue darted out of its slightly parted cavern to wet full, blood red lips in a, what she thought, seductive way. Fenrir's skin crawled in disgust at the sight. The feeling wasn't lessened when her big eyes ravaged his body, gaze shining with bright and utter lust.

Fucking bitch! She was almost as worse as Voldemort himself! She grated on his nerves!

"But then again little wolfy is a stupid little doggy that doesn't know anything at all." She continued.

Fenrir twitched.

No, he could NOT bite out her throat. Voldemort wouldn't be amused. But she was SO FUCKING ANNOYING the hell out of him! Her only purpose in doing this was to get the bastard's approval so he would fuck her! What a bitch in heat! Fenrir could smell it! Another reason why she was presenting herself like this! She hoped the snake-like bastard would finally notice her! As if! The maniac hadn't done that during the last war and he certainly wouldn't do so now!

He wanted to KILL her!

Smirking arrogantly in Bellatrix's direction, he turned to Voldemort and showed his sharp canines.

"Shall I retrieve the boy?"

"You better hurry." Voldemort hissed angrily.

Fenrir's smirk widened, giving him an even more dangerous and vicious appearance.

"As you wish." He paused, looking disdainfully into the crowd and finally added a drawled, "My Lord."

Examining his claws, he continued with malice, "In one piece, I assume?"

"Of course, you-" Voldemort started furious, but Fenrir interrupted him. "Then I shall retreat."

Without waiting another second he disapparated.

XXXXXXXXXXX

Harry had no idea where he was. The thick forest in front of him did not ring a single bell inside of his mind. The trees standing close to one another, reaching for him with their strong branches, were intimidating and not really inviting.

But there was nothing to prevent him from having to take the dive if he wanted to get away from here, from Greyback.

Staying was not an option! That meant he would sooner or later be taken to Voldemort. That was, if the beast wouldn't take care of him himself.

Harry's eyes widened in horror at the images his mind provided him with.

Voldemort laughing while standing over his dead corpse. Greyback's mouth full with Harry's flesh, feasting on his mangled body.

No, staying was definitely NOT an option!

So he heaved his battered body forwards, as fast as he could, and entered the forest.

XXXXXXXXXXX

Night had already fallen on the forest where his current hideout was located in, the tender light of the moon caressing the tops of the trees, bathing them in soft silver tones. The stars were illuminating the path Fenrir was currently walking on, deeply immersed in his thoughts.

Who the fucking hell did that bitch think she was?

And moreover who the fucking hell did that pimp think he was?

As if he would ever hand over his most precious possession! He may be mad but not out of his friggin' mind!

Huffing, he leant his forehead against a tree, his eyes closed, while he tried to calm down and think rationally. In an attempt to get rid of his frustrations, he raked his claws into the hard bark and crushed it in the process.

Maybe it was finally time to change alliances. After all Lupin had survived for years on their side. That meant they couldn't be that bad. The only bad thing about joining them was that he had to refrain from harming humans – meaning he couldn't change, seriously harm, kill or eat them. Too bad, but his mate wouldn't like him eating his friends. It would be hard in the beginning not to play with the humans but with time it would be worth it. His mate would reward him beautifully for his restraint!

The biggest plus point was that he would be at his mate's side, kicking Voldemort's arse. And as soon as the fucker would be dead Fenrir would stand over Voldemort's corpse and laugh – superiorly.

His white teeth shone in the darkness as a smirk crossed his features.

And after all that was done he would finally have his mate all to himself. He wouldn't share him with the world any longer! He was his. His!

When they were all to themselves he would take him again as if he were still a virgin. Because honestly, who would think that Harry would be still one at the point of Voldemort's death? No one could resent him for wanting to deflower his mate as soon as the little one was up to it, right? It was already very hard for Fenrir not to give in to his instincts and take him! And if they did resent him then their eyes were blind! They had to be stupid not to see his mate's beauty!

When it was finally time he would lay him down gently on Fenrir's pile of furs, covering him in his scent to soothe his mate's erratic mind. The pup's nervousness would fly away at his tender touches, eliciting soft mewls of appreciation while Fenrir's tongue would map out his heavenly body.

Sitting down in front of the tree, knees spread and forehead still leaning against the bark, Fenrir hastily opened his trousers to give room to his already hardened cock.

He imagined his mate's sensitive skin quivering under his skilful hands as they ghosted over the unmarked flesh, evoking goosebumps all over the little one's body.

Fenrir's hand wandered down his own and caressed taunt stomach muscles, which were twitching under his attention and then moved even lower.

He would suck on his little one's nubs until they were perky and damp with Fenrir's saliva whilst the little one's arse would be kneaded with care.

One of his own hands closed in around his cock while the other twirled his already hard nipples.

As soon as Fenrir would be sure that the little one's pleasure would be enough to distract him from anything, he would start preparing that oh so tight entrance of his mate. First, he would playfully stroke over the pucker until it would twitch with desire. Then one of his fingers would carefully push into that virgin channel, stretching it as thoroughly as possible. He would wait out every painful tremor that would run through his mate, searching for the spot that let his little mate scream for him to fuck him.

Wetting his thumb with saliva he gently fingered the tip of his dick, pulling back the foreskin and fondling the sensitive head.

Thrusting into the little one several times more with his digits, Fenrir would coat his member with his own pre-cum and would finally exchange his fingers with his cock so that he would sink into the marvellous warmth that was purely his mate.

Running his hand down his penis with sure and powerful strokes, he threw his head back and came, howling at mother moon.

Oh the bliss...! He could already imagine it! Their sweet joining under mother moon! They would stay entangled for the rest of the night, Fenrir not letting go of his mate. He would claim him as often as possible so that the little one knew where he belonged. Knew that he was his. Knew that nobody else was allowed to touch him.

She would bless their mating, of that he was sure. After all, she had already witnessed his declaration of potency.

Staring at his cum with distant eyes, he licked and savoured the flavour of it, imagining it to be the little one's. His impatience rose at the knowledge that the pup was NOT up for it. But nevertheless he silently continued to long for it.

Disappointed, he sighed and leaned his head back against the bark of the tree and looked at the dark night sky. The almost none existent moon was torturing him because that meant that the pup's first full moon was far away. He had to restrain himself up until then because the little one wouldn't be up for ANYTHING of that sort until the werewolf gift had changed him completely.

Mating of werewolves could be rather rough so if the little one still suffered from severe injuries it could backfire his healing process.

Sighing again, Fenrir stood up, closed his trousers and carried on with his walk to the cave.

He couldn't wait to reach his destination and be back together with his mate. Fenrir felt somewhat restless without him around. Probably because he had developed a protective streak for the little pup.

Technically, the little one wouldn't be his mate until his first full moon. Up until then he would remain Fenrir's pup.

However, that didn't stop him from already thinking of the little one as his mate. After all, who would be crazy enough to challenge Fenrir Greyback, the Alpha of Great Britain's werewolf population's claim over another werewolf? As far as Fenrir was concerned, nobody would, at least not if they hadn't a death wish.

And now the fucker had demanded he bring the little one to him! As if! He would die before he did anything like that!

Fenrir was proud of himself. He hadn't lost his composure in front of the bastard! A feat for Fenrir. After all, he wasn't known for his patience in the wizarding world. And his little mate would be so proud of him for not having lost his patience, too! Thus he would have to reward Fenrir nicely.

Mating wouldn't be an option. But nothing spoke against a proper snogging session, right?

A smirk crept onto Fenrir's features and his cock gave a twitch.

He would have to pleasure himself again manually afterwards... But it would be definitely worth it!

Losing himself in his thoughts, the remaining distance flew by in no time and he stopped in front of his cave.

The light that fell onto it threw strange shadows, illuminating it in a strange way.

Immediately, he was on his guard. Something wasn't quite right.

Sniffing around, he wasn't able to smell anything that could have disrupted his mate.

But still, something was strange.

He entered the cave, careful not to make a sound, both to not startle his mate awake and not to give himself away to any trespasser that might be there.

Scanning the cave, he was slowly moving towards the pile of furs. Nobody was here, so why did the air feel so strange?

Then it hit him. There was no soft heartbeat his over-sensitive ears caught, and his mate's scent that should be heavy in the air, clouding his mind, was only a distant reminder of what it had been before.

Dread washed over him while he strode towards the furs in record time. Hastily pulling them away, he was faced with nothing.

The bed was empty.

Roaring, Fenrir reeled back, his eyes turning an even deeper amber than before, his wolf coming to the forefront. Hunching over some, his canines elongated while his claws sharpened, itching to kill and spill blood, feeling the soft touch of breaking flesh underneath his hands.

Where was his mate? Where was the little one's abductor? He would kill the bastard on the spot! And everybody that was with him! He would not spare anybody! They would all suffer for kidnapping his mate!

Blood would spill in rivulets, drenching the poisoned floor they had walked on red! Flesh would fly, tinting the air crimson with lifeblood that spilled from the flesh! Intensities would be ripped out, dirtying the ground a muddy colour! Cries of pain would be filling the air, telling of torture and death!

A tiny voice stilled his oncoming rampage.

He couldn't smell any intruder who could have taken his mate away.

What did that mean?

His wolf-induced mind had trouble adding up the details, but as soon as it grasped the meaning, another vicious howl ripped through the night.

His mate had fled, of his own accord!

Fenrir wouldn't stand for it! He would get him back, and once he had found him, he would claim him, his mate's injuries be damned!

Sniffing the air, he followed his mate's shallow scent leaving the cave.

XXXXXXXXXXX

Harry hurried through the thick forest as fast as his injured body let him. Adrenaline pumping through his system, the boy-who-lived didn't notice the pain his still not healed wounds caused his body or the fever building.

Not caring for branches scratching his cheeks, ripping his arms and legs, he continued running frantically while dodging trees and bushes as best as possible.

He was exhausted beyond belief but he didn't dare to stop and make a pause. The fear and panic cursing inside of him wouldn't let him take a rest. The boy was too terrified of the thought of Greyback already on his heels, having found his trail and tracking him down. If that was the case then Harry was doomed because the werewolf was faster and in a better state than him.

He was sure that as soon as the beast found him he would show no mercy and this time kill him at once. But not the kind of mercy of a fast and painless death, no! Greyback would surely tear him apart limb by limb, revel in the splashing blood and Harry's pained cries of agony while torturing him slowly to death. He could even imagine the monster taking huge chunks of flesh out of his still living body, the white teeth turning red with Harry's blood as the malicious grin on his features widened at the boy's anguish.

Suddenly Harry's vision blurred and he stumbled.

While trying to regain his balance he stumbled again and fell against the rough bark of a tree, hitting the back of his head.

For a short moment he lost consciousness.

As soon as he emerged from the blackness surrounding his mind, fear pushed him back onto his feet.

He couldn't allow his body to get the better of him! Now was not the time!

If Greyback caught him he would be done for!

Stumbling forwards he held onto trees and branches on his way through the woods, afraid to fall again and not be able to stand back up again.

His sky-rocking fever and the blood he lost from his recently acquired head wound didn't stop his escape.

However, soon he was wandering aimlessly through the forest, losing count of the passing hours as he fell deeper into his fever-induced mind.

He didn't care where he went as long as he got away from Greyback.

Right now he would prefer the death at the hands of Voldemort than at the hands of Greyback. At least with Voldemort he would get a fast and smooth death unlike with Greyback.

With Greyback it would be long and gruesome. Something he would rather do without if he could.

But as it seemed fate appeared to be against him.

It seemed to want to torture him as much as possible.

Harry had no idea what he had done to deserve this, either in this life or a previous one, but it was no use complaining.

The only thing to prevent something like that from happening was by taking his fate into his own hands and not letting it rule his life.

And Harry intended to do just that. That was the reason why he couldn't simply give up!

He had to continue moving no matter what!

And just as he thought his situation couldn't get any worse, Harry felt the first tender touches of raindrops on his heated forehead.

Great, just great. How often did it happen that it rained during summer break?

It was just his luck to get the one FUCKING day it rained!

Why did fate hate him that much? What had he done?

Moments later the few raindrops had developed into a real downpour, soaking him to the bone and worsening his fever.

XXXXXXXXXXX

Fenrir had been following his mate's track for quite some time now. Clouds had appeared and darkened the night even further. Every now and then he would smell some blood, entering his sensitive nose and producing another rush for him – adrenaline or arousal, he didn't ponder too much about it.

The little beast had dared to run away! That wouldn't go by unpunished. Even if they weren't mates yet, Fenrir was still the little one's alpha and he had disobeyed an indirect order!

He hadn't said it out loud but wasn't it obvious that the pup had to stay put? Especially in his condition?

His paws increased their speed, catapulting his wolf-form even faster through the forest and closer to his delinquent mate.

Damn it all! A little spanking would do the pup some good! It would teach him obedience! Fenrir wouldn't go easy on him just because he was his mate! He couldn't be lenient on him!

The strokes to the little one's arse would be sufficient. After all, Fenrir hadn't been known for his mercy. The little one could be happy if he was still able to sit properly afterwards!

And if the little one did it right, he might be able to appease his alpha.

If the pup's moans of regret were loud enough Fenrir might stop the punishment earlier than intended.

And when the little one's bottom was all nice and red, he would plunder him, plunge into the velvety-

He stopped in his tracks, coming to a halt in front of a particularly large amount of blood.

While he had been ranting and raging, he had completely forgotten the most important fact.

His mate was injured, badly.

He couldn't do any of these things, at least not to the degree he wanted to.

First and foremost, he had to find his mate and gauge his condition. He would have to nurse him back to health before anything about his behaviour could be done.

Taking in the air surrounding him, he again scented his mate and started hunting for him, purposely ignoring his partly hardened length that stood out of his thick, silvery fur.

He hadn't been running for a long time when suddenly a raindrop fell onto his sensitive nose, sending a shiver through his entire body.

Looking up from the most recent tracks, he examined the sky above.

The clouds looked ominously murky, indicating more rain to come.

Cursing, he continued his search with even more vigour.

He knew that time was running short. As soon as the floor was muddy with water, it would almost be impossible for him to find his mate.

However, the downpour that greeted him was almost like a bad omen, hinting that fate was against him – mother moon couldn't do anything against something like this.

Her powers weren't as grand as fate's. She merely bestowed on the werewolves the gift of transforming into a wolf and the enhancement of their senses, nothing else.

Fenrir was already using all of her powers to his best ability, using the superior form of the wolf and taking advantage of its increased senses. Besides that she helped him using her glittery rays to enlighten his path every time fate seemed to leek every once in a while, breaking through the stormy clouds.

But still, he felt that he wasn't gaining way on his mate fast enough.

Dread filled him every time he found another puddle of blood, telling him that the little one would lie very soon somewhere, completely exhausted and easy prey for any predator that was on the hunt. The pup wouldn't be much of a challenge for anything that found him.

Increasing his pace he tried to ignore the fact that the rain slowed down his search considerably. It washed away his mate's scent and blood, covering his tracks. The small indents the little one's feet had made were slowly disappearing when the earth turned into mud.

Just his fucking luck that the weather decided to turn on him now of all times!

He wouldn't be able to follow his mate like this! In the state he had been in it was impossible for his mate to make a clear decision, so there was no pattern in the little one's escape. Often times he had been zig-zagging, doing circles or turning back.

Fenrir couldn't think of a path his mate could have taken like this. There was no logic behind it!

Damn the fucking rain! He wouldn't give up just because a little water was complicating his search! There was no fucking way in hell that he would let his mate escape! He had waited so long for him, he wouldn't let him go again!

When he was about to turn frantic, something caught his sharp amber eyes.

Jogging towards it, he recognized it as a piece of fabric that had been ripped off of something by a branch. Just to make sure he sniffed at it and identified his own scent with an undercurrent of his mate's.

The shirt the little one had been wearing had been one of his own that had been drenched in his dominant scent. The pup had been wearing it not long enough to change its scent permanently so it was only slightly present.

And this little piece had been all Fenrir had needed for his ambition to arise again.

Goal set, the strong wolf run off in the direction of some still existing – though very faint – footprints.

XXXXXXXXXXX

Harry was drenched to the core. His shirt had sponged the water to the last cell so it clung to his weakened body. It didn't repel the liquid any longer; instead it helped wetting his feverish skin. The black hair stuck to his head, the drops of water that dropped from his hair down his skin wasn't distinguishable from the rain running down his neck.

It had become harder for Harry to continue moving.

The ongoing rainstorm had worsened his condition. Now he didn't only feel feverish, his skin reddened and his forehead heated, he also felt even more weakened and his limbs had started shaking. Every now and then he hallucinated Greyback jumping at him from behind the next tree. Harry's eyes would widen, but his ability to respond had almost disappeared completely, so he stood rooted to the ground every time another image of the beast came at him.

Then again, the boy was happy that his reflexes seemed beaten because he wasn't sure he would be able to stand back up again once he evaded one of the imaginary Greyback's attacks.

But he knew it couldn't continue like this any more.

Almost all of his resources were empty, the fever not helping any.

If he didn't find a road or a human village soon he would break down and be easy prey for the monster.

Damn it all! Why was it so hard to move his legs all of a sudden? It hadn't been only moments ago! So why now of all times?

He felt anaemic and faint, his feet seeming intent on making him stumble and fall.

Leaning against another tree, he gasped for air. Breathless as he was, he held one of his hands in front of his eyes, noticing the visible shiver to it. He wasn't sure if it was because of the rain and the ensuing cold or because of the fever.

Neither options implied anything good. If it was the rain's fault, then his shivering was caused by serious hypothermia or if it was the fever's fault it was caused by serious overheating.

Who knew, if he was lucky, Harry snorted sarcastically, his fever would develop into pneumonia.

He could already see it come to pass. His doom would be settled then.

And then it happened. He stumbled, falling due to the malfunctioning of his senses. Crashing sidelong into the ground, his shoulder bearing the brunt of it, he got muddied all over.

For a moment he lied there, motionless, trying to overcome the pain the impact had inflicted on him. Furthermore his vision blurred because of the fast movement.

After everything had settled down again, he sat up and started laughing hoarsely at the irony. He had come out of the frying pan and directly into the fire!

His situation couldn't get any worse!

Blinking away the tears that were forming at the corners of his eyes he looked around, taking in his surroundings.

There were trees, and trees, and oh, a bush! And surprisingly, there were even more trees! And a rock! He couldn't believe it! The great diversity nature offered him was almost unbelievably high!

He was losing it. He was so losing his marbles.

Why else would he be accusing nature for being green and fucking in harmony?

He barely noticed the rain slowly dying down.

Still contemplating his state of mind – maybe he could lay the blame with the fever for his abstract thoughts? – something caught his attention.

Eyes widening, Harry couldn't believe his luck!

There was a road in front of him!

Why hadn't he noticed it before when he was examining the area? It would have spared him the degrading ramblings about nature and its workings!

It was a road in the middle of nowhere in a forest, but a road nonetheless!

Hobbling towards it – as much as his condition let him – he stopped at its side and looked down both ends of it, hoping to see a car approaching.

His mood sank as realization struck him.

The possibility of someone driving by by chance wasn't really high now, was it...?

What could he do?

Sitting down onto the forest's muddy floor he began thinking. It was hard for him to grasp a decent thought in his condition, but he forced himself to concentrate. If he didn't want to die he had to remain on topic. He could break down as soon as he was safely put away in his bed at Grimmauld Place.

Should he just wait here?

That would most likely mean his death.

Greyback would hunt him down and murder him in cold blood.

Even if he hadn't come back to the cave yet once he noticed Harry's absence he would go on a killing spree.

Besides that there was no question about who of them was the fitter one.

Subconsciously Harry began to rub his hurt feet.

They hadn't been used to a run through the rough forest, bare, and were torn open and bloody.

Luckily his neck wound had stopped bothering him for the moment.

So the logical answer was to keep on walking. The problem, however, was that he had to run – on his demolished feet! It would be pure torture!

One of his hands went to his forehead and felt his temperature.

The rain earlier on hadn't helped his fever any. His clothes were still damp and his body had problems fighting against the invading cold.

Then again he couldn't wait here for a car to appear. Who knew when the next one would come.

If he remained in one spot for too long Greyback was sure to find him and he couldn't let that happen.

The fever was still there but there was nothing he could do against it, at least not for now. Besides that he didn't allow himself to acknowledge the power the fever already had over his weakened body. If he were to do so he certainly would succumb to its strength. And right now wasn't the time for something like that. Otherwise he would become an even easier prey for Greyback.

His vision blurred when he stood up again. He winced because of the weight on his torn feet.

Damn it! His circulation was off due to the fever!

However, that was one of his smaller problems. He had to get away!

Resting for a moment longer he got his condition back under control.

When he was sure he could stand back up, he started a second attempt, not caring for the pain that sore through his batted feet.

He couldn't wait any longer! He had to get going NOW!

Ignoring his aching feet – really, he had suffered worse – he started walking alongside the road.

XXXXXXXXXXX

He could barely keep his eyes open.

He had been walking for a long time now, the first rays of the morning sun warming his back. Every now and then he stopped and looked for a vehicle in both directions. Not one single car or truck or anything AT ALL had shown up.

For a moment he stopped walking to catch his breath.

He was exhausted, completely exhausted!

The fever had weakened his already ill body and the lost blood of his feet, his recently acquired head wound, and his bled-through shoulder did their part.

He just knew that his body wouldn't make it for much longer. It wouldn't take much more and he would break down, sure to be found by Greyback.

There was no way he would give up now! He had managed so far, so why should he lose hope now?

He wouldn't give Greyback the satisfaction of passing out and being found by him, completely defenceless due to his fainted condition!

Getting his grip back around his iron will he started walking again but only a few steps later his gaze was pulled to the road by some light coming from behind.

Turning around his eyes widened.

A truck was driving rather fast into his direction.

That was his chance! His chance to escape Greyback!

Now to make the driver aware of his presence!

How to do that?

He could pull up some of his shirt, exposing a part of one of his thighs to entice the driver.

Inwardly, he snorted to himself. He could just imagine himself doing that.

And the success he would have! After all he was quite the appearance.

His hair plastered to his skull, damp from the rain earlier on but still greasy, his unhealthy skin with a white hue to it, no shoes and no trousers, but a shirt several sizes too big for him, hanging down to his knees, dirty from his escape through the forest and painted with blood from a bled through bandage.

That would just go over real smoothly...

Luckily some of the blood had been washed out of the shirt by the heavy rain.

Yes, his success would be enormous.

But then again, even if he tried to hitch-hike his chances were very low.

After all who would pick him up looking like this?

And considering his luck in the past few days, Harry knew that the gods were against him.

Nevertheless he tried it – the normal way with no pulling up his shirt and such nonsense.

Harry could be imagining things, but he thought that the truck slowed down some. His vision had been off so his doubts were justified.

Moments later, he realized that the truck did indeed slow down and it came to a stop right in front of him.

Was the driver serious? Was he really picking Harry up?

His eyes widened when the co-driver's door was opened.

He really was serious!

As far as Harry could see the driver had short blond hair and was rather bulky. Other than that his appearance seemed to be trustworthy – at least his foggy mind was telling him so.

"Need a ride?" The driver asked. His voice sounded quite pleasant.

"That would be nice." Harry replied.

Just now the driver seemed to notice Harry's state of dress.

"Why don't you wear any jeans?" He asked.

Harry's mind reeled.

What to say? How to respond? What to DO?

"I was attacked by a wolf, kidnapped by a murderer and held hostage for the last couple of days."

Was he stark raving MAD? The driver would think of him as a criminal! Or worse a nut-case!

He looked at Harry in a strange way, examined him and broke out into laughter.

"You're funny. Now what's the real reason?"

Embarrassed, Harry looked at his feet.

"I like cross-dressing."

Mentally, he slapped himself.

What was he TELLING that man? The driver had to think who knew what about him!

"In the... wilderness?" The driver asked disbelievingly.

"My friends and I got into a row when we were in the car. We were driving to our holiday place. They kicked me out of their car so now I'm trying to either get back home or to our holiday place."

He would never believe it, of that Harry was sure.

He had to be completely nuts to believe something like that!

Again, the driver laughed.

"I like you. Jump in."

Relieved, Harry got into the co-driver's seat.

He would get away from Greyback!

"I'm Bob, by the way."

"Harry."

* * *

**I hope the whole chapter isn't too confusing because at some time I had lost my red threat... Same goes for the handjob with the constant jumpings...**

**Hope you liked it and please review!**

**By the way we're not really sure what should happen in the next chapter so any ideas would be appreciated!**

**Another question: Do you believe Snape was attending the meeting?**


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: **Nothing ours! If so Fenrir would look a lot cooler than in the movie!

**A/N: **Sorry for the delay but wofl1 has been to England up until 1 week prior and der-gestiefelte-kater is currently doing her A-levels.

We're apologising again because there probably won't be another update in the next 2 month because wofl1 is going back to England agan (she's only back home for Easter break). der gestiefelte-kater is going to visit wofl1 in England (in June) but we aren't sure if we're going to achieve anything at all.

So for this chapter...

First of all, it's pretty short.

Second of all, we were listening to "Thriller" by Michael Jackson (RIP) so don't be surprised if it's a bit messed up. The constant screaming and the evil laugh at the end were inspiring us.

Third of all, we haven't seen each other for a looooooooooooong time (1 1/2 months XD) so it's probably even weirder than the other chapters.

Forth of all, der-gestiefelte-kater just dropped her sweets into her drink XDDDD and can't stop laughing her ass off and is fishing for it in veeeeeeeery weird ways.

**Warning: GORE!** (only bold because der-gestiefelte-kater insisted on it) Blood!

**Review Replies **

_lil joker: _loooool we were laughing our asses off!

_Black Demon Cat: _Maybe you're not that wrong... Hope you like this chapter as well.

_Tuuna: _Aaaaah, come on! It would be too easy if Harry stayed with Greyback, right? And it would be too mainstream...

_Lone-Angel-1992: _You're going to have to wait for romance. We just don't like stories with an immediate happily ever after. But you can be assured as soon as they have found each other there will enough of it.

_ElvinDragon:_ ROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOFL we just couldn't stop to laugh every time we read your comment!

_AirKnitter: _It would be a possible course of action but we have already decided that it will take some time more... Can't tell you more. That would be telling to much and we can't have that right? XDD

_scorpion moon goddess: _we're going to think about Bob being a squib or something. It's a good idea in any case! Would be solving one of our problems XD Thanks for pointing that out for us. And another thanks for reminding us of the feeding thingy. Actually, we had planned it (why else should Fenrir hunt down a doe?) but totally forgot about it... Suppose we got too carried away XD It's going to be put into a flashback later on.

_koryssa-kory-:_ Actually, you're the first person to like Bob XD We don't plan to let anything bad happen to him (at least not right now) and we didn't plan for him to appear to be such a suspisious person. But in this chapter... you'll see for yourself.

Special thanks also to _Eriklover101, BonneNuit, Madd Girl, Elfin69, MagicalWinry, LivingRightNow, kukuacho_

* * *

**4. The Madness **

A strong canine body was speeding through the dark forest. Blurred images flashed by while rain thundered down, soaking its fur. Muddy puddles splashed as soon as one of the paws hit the wet earth. Wind sent cold chills of anticipation through the wolf's form.

Different impressions assaulted its sensitive senses. Fear of the forest's inhabitants tickled its nose, itching it to go on a hunt, but it did not sidetrack the wolf from the scent of its wayward mate still lingering in its snout.

Its tongue lolled out of its muzzle, saliva dipping onto the drenched floor.

Suddenly a foreign scent reached its nose. The weak smell of decay mixed with dark magic polluted the sweet rainy air, a delicious metallic stench intertwined with it.

Halting in its steps, the wolf sniffed its surroundings while its ears perked up, ready to catch any sound that might appear.

A disgusting smell invaded its snout, distracting it from its previous path. Hackles rising the wolf snarled.

Something was impeding on its territory, unasked and unwanted.

It took another step forward.

Unpleasant ear-wrecking voices were attacking its ears.

Prowling closer, the wolf followed its leads.

"... the Dark Lord has ordered us to do so, so stop complaining already", one of the voices said.

Stopping, its ears twitched.

"... fucking forest... fucking rain... crazy Dark Lord... my precious leather boots!"

Another twitch of the ears and the wolf's shape started shifting.

XXXXXXXXX

"Shut up or I'm gonna hex you into oblivion!" Terrell roared angrily. "It's bad enough that the fucking rat bit me!"

"Bit you?" Kerr mocked, an evil grin plastered onto his face. "Oh, the little one bit you? Does it hurt? Did he draw blood? Shall I blow?"

"Put a stinkin' sock into your mouth! Who was the one whining about the bastard kicking your precious parts, making you crawl on the floor? 'It hurts so much, Terrell, help me!'" Terrell's features distorted to – what he thought to be – an innocent expression while he continued in a childish voice, "Have you gotten yourself a bump, little Kerry-poo?"

"You could have told me that the soon-to-be pet of the Dark Lord has such great spirit," Kerr replied lecherously, his eyes gleaming with lust and madness. "It would be so much fun to break the little bastard myself. I would even let you watch if you behave. And if you ask nicely, I might even let you have a go at him."

"How generous, but you know he is off-limits. "

"Too bad, I really want to do him."

"Anyway, lets … Did you hear that?" Terrell asked uncertainly, trying to see through the thick curtain of rain thundering down, darkening the already sinister night further.

"What?"

"Something was moving over there!" His hand was shaking slightly as he pointed in the direction of the sound he had supposedly heard prior, eyes alight with nervousness.

"Stop seeing the devil between the trees!" Kerr joked although he had to admit that being in this deep, ancient forest he felt uncomfortable as well. "There is no one here. Just us and the mud in this stupid forest! Hell, it's highly unlikely that someone is nearby. Out in nowhere! Of all places we could be..."

"Lets get out of here. Something is off. I have a bad feeling," Terrell said, his eyes darting from one tree to the next, suspicious of his surroundings.

"You won't go anywhere anytime soon," a deep and guttural voice said, almost sounding like a ferocious growl. Turning their eyes towards a bush they could make out a huge form with a broad chest and strong muscles. Powerful and heavy strides brought the tall man closer to them until they could clearly see the annoyance on his distinctive features, his silvery hair clung to his skull, his canines were bared in a menacing expression, showing off his strong jaw (A/N: it's up to you if he's naked or not XD).

"Give him to me!" The demand hung threateningly in the dark night, followed by a frightening silence, but neither of them dared to move or speak.

Both of them were frozen to the spot as recognition dawned on them.

"Now!" He barked, impatience dripping off of his voice. Cringing, they tightened their grips around their wands.

"We're not al-" Terrell started but stopped immediately, eyes widening when he saw Greyback crouching down, his body beginning to shift. Muscles were tensing under the enormous pressure the transformation caused. Fear gripped Terrell's heart as the beast's murderous eyes fixed on him, Greyback's mouth opening to show slowly elongating fangs.

Whipping out his wand Terrell screamed hysterically, "Avada Ke-" but a strong jaw was already embedding itself in his throat. The force of the impact sent him to the ground while the wolf tossed its prey's body from one side to the other.

Pain exploded in Terrell's brain, paralysing his whole being. He felt the sharp canines at his shoulder, tearing his flesh wide open and taking a large chunk of it out of his neck. Blood was gushing out of the wound, mixing with the clear water of the innocent rain to be washed away.

Black dots appeared at the edges of his vision while more blood spluttered out of his mouth.

Ripped from his pain filled mind, he felt a strong tugging at his leg, his ligaments stretching until finally his bones couldn't take it any more and were broken apart, his flesh giving way until it was torn away from his body. A gurgled scream echoed through the forest.

Idly, he wondered if it was his own before he was finally granted the numbness of unconsciousness.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"There you go, lad." Bob said, giving him a towel that had been stored somewhere in the driving cab of his truck.

Thankful, Harry accepted it and dried himself as much as possible. Rubbing it over his drenched hair, he massaged his scalp, getting rid of the water pearling down his slender neck. Sensually sliding the towel down his throat he revealed even messier hair than before. Goosebumps adorned his arms as he wiped every last droplet of rain away. Shifting in his seat, he stretched out his long legs and towelled them dry. Starting with his feet he slowly moved upwards, rubbing his frozen skin warm so it got a rosy hue due the soft pressure. The appendages were roaming higher and higher until they finally reached his shorts.

Suddenly feeling eyes on himself, he looked up and found Bob staring intensely at him. Blushing furiously, he fidgeted uncomfortably under the strange gaze bestowed on him.

In the awkward atmosphere that had arisen, Harry didn't dare to continue so in the end his shirt was still wet, but there was nothing he could do against it. He certainly wouldn't remove it, not after Greyback had stolen his clothes and not after the weird gaze he had just received from Bob.

"I'll stop at the next petrol station and give you a change of clothes." Bob said, looking uneasy as well. "Take this for the time being."

Reaching behind him the driver handed a blanket to Harry.

Grateful and still flushed red, Harry took it and wrapped himself in the grey and somewhat scratchy, but warm fabric.

After another uneasy sideways glance in Harry's direction, Bob fiddled with the keys until he finally hit the ignition, started the engine and drove off.

* * *

**Please R&R! Sorry if it's a bit confusing right now but it will be explained in the next chapter(s)**

**It's motivation for us to continue writing (even though wofl1 can't access our account in England)**


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: Nothing of the Harry-Potter-universe belongs to us. It's the property of J. K. Rowling and Bloomsbury**. **We do not make money out of this although we would need it. If it were ours Fenrir and Harry would do a lot more snogging. **

**Warning: **gore and blood XD

**A/N: **First of all, anybody who doesn't like our last death scene and upcoming scenes and thinks it's logically not possible for someone to die like that has to remember that we are not trying to write a medical dissertation (though we are trying to be as accurate as possible). So if we claim the prostate is in fact in our head, please do not flame us XDDDD

Second of all, **WE DO **_**NOT**_** APPRECIATE PEOPLE COPYING OUR CHAPTERS**! If a certain someone (that person probably knows who we are talking about) hadn't done that this stupid chapter would have already been uploaded a long time ago. We had a HELL OF A job to do because that person didn't admit that whole FUCKING paragraphs were copied and thus didn't want to rewrite their chapter. In fact, it STILL sounds similar... It had dampened our mood to write this chapter.

So now we would like to give our special thanks to _**kellegirl**_ who alerted us to this infringement.

Third of all, we apologise for the delay but I (wofl1) needed a break after coming home from HIGH MELTON! TREE! TREE! TREE! BUUUUUUUUUSH - OH THERE'S A SQUIRREL! (guess where we got our landscape despription from XD). Honestly, there's NOTHING but beautiful (inserted by der-gestiefelte-kater cause she really likes landscape (to draw it mostly)) landscape. Unfortunately we didn't manage to finish this chapter during the one week I had off from school and she visited me due to the copycat. Furthermore der-gestiefelte-kater went on holidays with her family when I returned.

Forth of all, thanks for the reviews! They're going to be answered via "Personal Messages" because it's going to become rather long and probably most of you are really annoyed with kilometres of review answers.

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** 5. Journey Back Home - 1  
**

Yellow eyes looked up from their dead prey, fixing Kerr. Crimson blood was smeared all over the wolf's muzzle and throat, dirtying the greyish, silver fur. Bits of robes and pieces of flesh were hanging out of its mouth.

Terrified, the human took some steps back and the hand holding his wand shivered with fear.

The wolf started growling, fangs bared.

Shocked at seeing his partner mutilated in front of his eyes, a shriek escaped Kerr's throat.

Turning, he tried to escape into the depth of the forest but he slipped on the muddy ground, his wand falling from his grasp. Hastily, Kerr tried to get back to his feet but flinched as pain shot through his body starting from his ankle.

Immediately the wolf used the other's opening and jumped at him, paws stretched out in front of it.

A disgusting snap was heard upon the impact of the wolf's heavy form breaking Kerr's spine and several rips. Some of the bone splitters pierced his lungs. Slowly blood filled the damaged organs, making it harder and harder to breathe. At the same time blood was pressed into his head and throat.

His vision faded until it was completely black.

Choking on his own blood Kerr desperately grabbed for his lost wand when he felt sharp teeth at his upper arm, enclosing it in a strong jaw while saliva dropped onto it.

Lightheadedness began to fill his consciousness when his blood filled lungs started to give out, not transferring enough oxygen into his blood stream. His struggles became less and less as numbness slowly set in.

The wolf bit down hard; flesh, muscles and bone bursting apart at the heavy pressure.

A muffled scream escaped Kerr's throat, coming out more like a gurgle than anything else due to the blood that was blocking his windpipe.

Then he felt moist and clammy air at his neck, caressing his quivering, slightly blue-ish skin.

His unseeing eyes widened but it was already too late as teeth bored themselves into his vulnerable throat, breaking it so that it lolled lifelessly back and forth when the wolf opened its jaw.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Damn those two fuckers!

They hadn't been in the possession of his mate! Stupid dimwits!

They should have been! After those obvious innuendos they should have been! But no, it hadn't been his mate they had in their possession! It had been a pathetic foxan – a cross between human and fox – that had been stupid enough to let itself be caught by the bastard's incompetent henchmen.

Really, they had been so obvious the foxan should have been able to sense, smell or at least _see_ their presence but no! It hadn't. Even with its inferior senses it should have realized its danger.

Such stupid animals weren't supposed to be alive!

At least it had been intelligent enough to run away before he had gotten his claws on it.

And he still didn't know where his mate was! He wanted to hold him, damn it! Provide for him, care for him. He wanted to possess the little brat, to the very last pore that was on his body.

Damn it! It wasn't supposed to be like this! The little one shouldn't have been kidnapped. He should have returned with Fenrir to his pack. He should have given him pups and he should have lived happily ever after with him!

It shouldn't have been like this, damn it! With this kidnapping shit and everything!

Where was he?

The two vermin hadn't been helpful at all! Then again, dead bodies seldom were…

Fenrir spat out while stepping confidently over the dead bodies. They hadn't even tasted that good.

He had needlessly lost time slaughtering the scum for nothing! Fucking idiots! It had been completely for nought!

Oh but as soon as he got his claws on the other bootlickers they would wish they hadn't been born! Kidnapping his mate! How dare they!

A ferocious growl escaped his lips as he strode through the forest.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

There was nothing much Harry could do against the cold invading his wet body, but he was grateful for every opportunity he got to heat himself up. He would only be able to fend off the chill once he got out of his drenched shirt, and who knew when that would happen.

His head was the only thing that was not covered by the blanket and it was looking around for something interesting to hold off the attacking fatigue.

As soon as he gave in to sleep he would be out for several days, of that, Harry was sure. He couldn't allow that to happen.

Of course, he wouldn't be able to remain awake for however long it would take him to reach London, but right now would be the worst time ever to fall asleep.

A change of clothes would keep him from succumbing to the cold. At least he hoped so...

Harry spotted several fast food containers standing at random places. He hadn't noticed earlier but now that he had time he realized he was starving. A growl seconded his realization.

Bob laughed and said, "You hungry? Take a look into the glove compartment. There should be some biscuits." After some rummaging Harry found said sweets and started eating them.

They were strangely dry but edible.

Gazing further around, he saw a newspaper.

His eyes widened. He had no idea how long he had been staying with Greyback. And for that matter he had no idea which day it was or which date.

"Mind if I read your newspaper?" Harry asked out of his blanket pile.

"Sure, go ahead." Bob answered, his eyes fixed on the road ahead.

Reluctantly, Harry stretched out his hand – after all it was cold out of his blanket – took hold of the paper and looked at the date.

His eyes widened at seeing the day. He had been staying with Greyback for about ten days? How had he managed to stay alive? He should have been dead by now! And why had nobody looked for him?

They were wizards, for crying out loud! There surely was a method they could have used to track him down! Magic could achieve a lot, after all!

Harry didn't believe that he had been too deep in the clutches of nature for his friends to find him. There just had to be some kind of spell for aurors to find kidnapped witches and wizards!

Then again, Voldemort's victims were never found in time... Maybe there wasn't a spell like that, after all...

So he had to take matters in his own hands and get back home. But it would have been nice for someone else to solve the problem of getting back for him because he was tired of always having to get himself out of danger all of the time.

Where was Bob headed anyway? If Harry didn't know better Bob would be headed in the exact opposite direction the boy-who-lived wanted to go.

That would be bad...

Then again, as long as he could stay in the heated driving cab everything would be alright.

Pulling the blanket closer, Harry asked, "Where are you heading? Don't get me wrong, I don't want to be rude. But it would help me to plan my travel route."

"It's okay, don't worry." Bob said. "Headed to Manchester. Is that on your way?"

Damn it. He had no way of knowing if that was on his way. After all he had no idea if he had been in the south of Manchester or in the north. How could he question him without sounding suspicious? Because honestly, he would sound quite suspicious if he asked where Bob had been coming from. That would imply that Harry had no idea where he and his "friends" were driving for holidays. And that would be a dead give-away that he hadn't been fighting with his "friends".

Harry had had luck with his first story, but there was no way Bob would believe something like that!

So how to answer that question?

He couldn't just say "somewhat". After all if Bob had been coming from somewhere around London, that would mean it was a detour for Harry.

"I'm heading home for London." Harry finally answered.

Bob laughed again.

Had that been the wrong answer? Had he given himself away?

Anyway what was it with Bob and his constant laughter? Was he on some kind of drugs or what? There was no way for Bob to be this cheerful!

Damn it! All this thinking was enhancing his headache and fever! And Bob's loud laughter didn't help, either.

"That means we can travel some together! I'm coming all the way from Edinburgh. But wouldn't it be better for you to go to your holidays place? After all wouldn't that be closer? Anything is nearer than London."

"Yeah, probably, but I don't want to spend my holidays with them any longer."

"Annoyed with them, aren't you?"

"Yes, quite."

"Want to call your parents?"

Oh shit. What now? He couldn't tell Bob that his parents weren't alive, he was living with his relatives who didn't give a damn about him, and the other people who cared about him had no idea how a telephone or mobile worked, let alone how one looked!

"Well..."

Damn it. Sometimes it was really not practical to have such backwards friends who didn't have a clue about technology.

Of course! Hermione! How could he have forgotten her? He mentally slapped himself.

Last year, after yet another destructive school year, she had insisted on him learning her mobile phone number in case something happened. After all, Voldemort had just been revived and nobody could be sure what would be happening next.

So she had forced him to learn her number and had made sure he remembered it by using a stupid memory hook.

"Do you have a mobile? I'm afraid mine's still with my friends." Harry lied. He didn't like lying to Bob but right now it couldn't be helped.

"Take mine. It's in the glove compartment."

Sure enough Harry found it after some rummaging.

Looking at it, his eyes grew distant and he began to contemplate.

Hogwarts had four different houses. He dialled the four.

They were five guys in Griffindor dormitory. He added a five.

The Weasleys were a family of nine. A nine.

They had seven children. A seven.

The order's headquarter was Grimmauld Place Number twelve. Twelve.

The order had 27 original members. Twenty-seven.

They had gained two new friends in two different schools – Viktor Krum and Fleur Delacour. Twenty-two.

Pressing the green button he waited for Hermione to pick up her phone while he looked out of the window.

After some time an enquiring "Hello?" was heard.

Surprised, Harry asked, "Hermione?"

"Harryyyyyyyyyyyy! Oh my god! Is that really you? We've searched everywhere for you! What happened? Where are you? Are you alright? Did Greyback hurt you?"

Having put the phone some inches from his ear after her screeched 'Harry', he allowed himself to relax and a small smile crept onto his features. Relief shot through his tense body at hearing his friend's familiar voice.

Now everything was going to be alright. She would be making sure of that. Hell would freeze over before she would let him perish in the midst of nowhere. The wheels in her head were probably already reeling thinking about a way to get him away from wherever he was without knowing anything about the situation.

In an exhausted voice he interrupted her rambling, "I'm fine, Hermione, really. I'm beat and just want to get back home. I probably run a fever, too."

"Ok, we're going to get you. Where are you?" She asked. He just knew that she had been worrying herself sick about him. "And make sure to keep warm if you really have a fever. You'll have to sweat it out."

"Right now I'm wrapped in a blanket so stop worrying. I'm just a bit dizzy. All I need is a good night's rest. I'm hitchhiking in a lorry at the moment. Wait a sec, I'll ask Bob where we'll stop next."

"Carlisle is our next stop. I'll get a bit more cargo there." Bob said who had obviously been listening in to the conversation.

Nodding, Harry turned back to the phone, "Did you hear that?"

"Yes, I'll tell the others. Can I call you back later to let you know the details?"

"Can she call your phone later as soon as she gets a hold of mum and dad?" Harry asked Bob, hoping that Hermione would catch on.

"Sure can do." Bob said.

"Yes you can."

"Ok then I'll call you back later. Make sure you keep out of trouble." She said, worried.

"Ok, later." He said.

"Later."

XXXXXXXX

Twenty minutes later – at least Harry assumed it to be twenty minutes later because he couldn't be too sure with his fuzzy mind – they finally reached the promised petrol station.

Bob disappeared to who knew where and Harry, armed with a new set of clothes, strode over to the not so clean toilets.

Changing out of his wet and way too revealing shirt Harry looked at his shoulder in a mirror after peeling off the crusty bandage. It hurt while pulling off the dirty and red stripes. The bite wound was still red and angry but funnily enough mostly healed. He didn't dare to touch it for he feared it would reopen so he left the remaining blood on his skin. Right now pain was shooting through his body because the adrenaline had finally left his body and didn't numb it any more.

Trying to move his shoulder as little as possible he gingerly and very slowly put on the plaid, worn out pullover Bob had given to him. The large, washed out jeans were held in place with a belt.

Harry was painfully reminded of his time with the Dursleys, but this time he didn't wear Dudley's, but Uncle Vernon's clothing.

But right now he was more than thankful for every last piece of clothing he had been offered. After all, they were a lot warmer – and more decent – than the shitty shirt Greyback had dressed him in against his will.

Sighing, he moved over to a toilet seat and sat down to examine his torn feet. They were torn open and bloody. Mud of the forest floor was contaminating them and stopping them from closing up. Ghastly gashes were bleeding steadily, oozing out pus. Taking some tissue he hesitated for a moment to clean his feet, but in the end did do it. Wincing when he lightly touched the bloody surface, he continued to wash out the lacerations and pulled out the thorns afterwards.

Silently cursing the fact that he had nothing to bandage his feet with, he pulled on a pair of socks he had gotten from Bob.

Absent-minded, Harry went back to the truck and got back in, waiting for Bob to return.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The rain had stopped. Last droplets of water dripped heavily from the leaves. The moist atmosphere created foggy wafts of mist. The air smelled clean and fresh, only a slight, underlying smell of blood contaminated the air.

Fenrir's amber eyes scanned his surroundings for any clue of his mate. The ancient trees, however, remained quiet and didn't tell the alpha anything about the pup. Their whispers had fallen silent completely.

He regarded them for any mark his mate could have left on their bark. But there was none.

Searching for hours the trees started to become less and less until they revealed a street.

Eyes narrowing, he went towards it for a slight dent in the ground had caught his attention.

Coming to a stop in front of the street, he noticed several footprints.

Crouching down he studied them.

There were two different imprints. One was large and booted.

Fenrir immediately dismissed that one as unimportant and turned his eyes to the other footprints.

Those were significantly smaller and barefooted. His eyes widened when a slight smell of blood penetrated his nose. Dread filled him as he recognized the familiar scent. Looking closer Fenrir saw small bloody parts in the imprints of his mate.

Fenrir growled.

How dare they? How dare they touch his mate? How dare they mutilate only a small part of him?

Damn it!

His eyes dilated in fury as he glared at the booted footprints.

Estimating from the dent the imprints had made into the earth, the guy – it was too large for a bitch's foot – was either tall, or fat, or both. Surprisingly the old and worn out boots were the ones of a muggle because he couldn't detect a magic signature except the one of his mate.

Fucking Death Eaters! They didn't have the guts to do the job themselves and had to put an unsuspecting muggle under the Imperius to do their dirty work!

Frigging scaredy cats! As soon as he got his claws on them they would wish that their mothers had killed them at birth!

And he would get them!

He apparated away in a swirl of darkness.

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**R&R**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N:** Hi there! We would have posted this maybe a week earlier but der-gestiefelte-kater got a nasty flu. We 're also working on a revision of the first few chapters and actually wanted to post the revised version of the 1st chapter when posting this one but unfortunately we only got half of it done (hey! Ginny now has a very detailed description of her body!).

Then there are some "bad" news because it might take us some time to post the next chapter - again. But we both have reasons! (don't hit us please!) Wofl1 is going to Madrid for about 4 months until Christmas break. She's only going to be back home for the holidays and then she's going back for another 6 weeks of training. Der-gestiefelte-Kater is going to live in Hamburg for the next year for her training so you see... we won't be able to see each other except for Christmas break. Maybe we're going to be creative via webcam, though XD but we don't know that yet (you know it's easier to write for us if we see the other's (more or less) approving expressions).

**Disclaimer:** Nothing ours! Except for Bob! He is, indeed, ours!

**Warnings:** No language! No gore! No Fenrir! Please do not hyperventilate!

Thanks for all the reviews! We love all of them so much! Thanks to the reviewer who suggested Fenrir attack the truck. We gave it our own twist and used it in this chapter.

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** 6. Journey Back Home - 2  
**

Harry was bored out of his mind. Sitting in the driver's cab with Bob had lost its charm after the first hours of travelling because neither of them seemed to know what to talk about right now. Besides, most of the time Harry had only listened and not talked. Then again, Bob didn't seem to mind because he knew that Harry was ill.

During the first few hours, the boy-who-lived had learned that Bob was divorced and had two children. Right now he was in a happy relationship living in a small apartment in York. He might not be home very often, but his partner was very understanding and had proposed to him recently. And then he had started telling Harry about his children.

At the moment, though, it seemed Bob was tired of talking. That had been some kind of entertainment and it had distracted him from his fuzziness and the pain. Moreover he enjoyed listening to the story of a "normal" person.

But now, with the missing stories being told, Harry had nothing to concentrate his aching mind on. His head felt as if it would split open if he touched it, throbbing at the slightest movement. He didn't even have to put a hand to his forehead to know that he was still running a fever. Feeling completely out of it and still very weak, Harry could do nothing else than stare out of the window, looking at the landscape flying by. Whilst doing so he unconsciously nuzzled the shirt he had previously been wearing, using it as a pillow pushed against the window.

The calm and peaceful landscape outside of the window soothed his erratic mind. It felt as if a weight had been lifted off of his shoulders as soon as they had left the forest some hours ago. Idyllic and green fields had moved into its place. The sun was shining down out of the blue sky onto red, yellow and white flowers that speckled the grassland. Every now and then he could see cattle and sheep calmly browsing. The picture was completed by some misty mountains in the far distance.

Smiling slightly, Harry pushed his head deeper into the shirt, making himself more comfortable. He was so sleepy. To fend of the invading exhaustion was becoming harder and harder each minute. The calming smell the shirt seemed to emanate didn't make things any easier. It turned his eyes to half mast and made his limbs hard to move. Snuggling deeper into the seat and the shirt at once, he made himself as cosy as possible. He yawned one last time and smacked sleepily while his eyes finally fluttered close. His mind was slowly drifting into unconsciousness when he suddenly realized what was happening.

He couldn't afford to fall asleep now. Not while he was still not with his family. The possibility of something happening while dreaming was impossibly high. Forcing himself to move away from his pillow, he shook himself awake. Rubbing at his eyes he settled back down and continued to stare out of the window, his eyes already half closed again.

Something moving at of the corner of his eyes caught his attention but the truck was moving too fast for his sleepy mind to make out anything distinctive. The sunlight got caught in the silhouette's fur and blinded him momentarily.

Bolting upright in his seat he gulped in lungfuls of air. His heart beat like crazy while his shoulders were tense. Staring straight ahead to calm down, he put his hand over his heaving chest.

It couldn't be! It simply couldn't be!

Harry had recognized the wolf immediately. He hadn't stayed that long with him, most of the days unconscious, anyway, but he would still recognize that silvery fur anywhere!

Afraid of what would await him, Harry looked out of the window again to confirm the dreadful fact, that he was indeed found by Greyback. He was met with nothing but the peaceful landscape, the monster nowhere to be seen.

For a moment he remained suspicious, but after several more moments Greyback hadn't appeared again and the tension in his body left him. The relief, however, was only short-lived as his head was flooded by disturbing questions.

What was going on? Was he losing his mind? Had he really imagined the Death Eater outside the truck? Was he becoming paranoid? Why the hell had he imagined Greyback outside? There had been no reason to do that!

His hands unconsciously tightened their hold on the shirt, searching for something to ease his mind until he realized what he was doing.

The shirt! That had to be the reason why! The scent! It must have been hypnotizing him. Why the hell had he taken it along? Why hadn't he left it at the petrol station? He could have put it in a bin and be rid of anything that reminded him of his horrible time spent together with Greyback! But no, for some stupid, inane reason he had kept it! Why? And the bigger problem was now he couldn't get rid of it! There was no way he would throw it out of the window because, first, Bob would surely question his sanity while screaming his head of and then he would kick him out of the lorry. Besides Greyback would probably find the shirt and know where he was, he just knew it!

So there was no reason he would just leave it somewhere! With his luck the beast would be at him only a few short moments after he had thrown it away!

Now where to put it? Looking around he looked for an appropriate place to put the shirt. There wasn't anywhere to put it, though, besides put it next to his socked feet and some of the used food containers.

He didn't know why it was so hard for him to let go of the shirt, but he had to really force his grip off of the shirt. Each single finger had to be willed off of the rough fabric. After some painful moments he managed to get rid of it and lay it down to his feet.

It didn't take long after that for him to fall asleep finally. There was no way he could hold out against the demanding blackness that had threatened him ever since he had started his escape from Greyback's cave.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Snapping out of his fever induced sleep, the throes of seducing darkness slowly leaving him, Harry was disorientated for a moment, and annoyed by an annoying ringing sound. The boy-who-lived rubbed at his eyes and yawned while taking in his surroundings.

He was still in the lorry's cab and his eyes caught Bob's frame. The driver's fingers were drumming on the wheel and he hummed to some slow going rock music.

Another ringing was heard.

Confused, Harry looked around.

"Get the phone, Harry. Probably your family." Bob said absent-mindedly. For a moment longer he looked a bit dazed at the driver, then he turned around to look for the mobile and spotted it vibrating between the food containers.

Picking it up, he pushed the green button and ruffled his hair.

Still half asleep, he mhmed into the phone.

Immediately his ears were assaulted by a jumble of voices.

"Does this even work?"

"I think you're holding it the wrong way around..."

"Like this?"

"No! The other way around!"

"But that just looks stupid! It's probably wrong..."

"Yeah, but I tell you it's an animal that needs to be able to reach the sky!"

"That, Mr. Weasley, is an utterly striking accessory, but I sincerely doubt that you have to put this contraption vertical onto your useless excuse of a head."

Suddenly Harry heard a loud smashing sound. Did they just let the mobile phone fall onto the floor?

"Tonks! You killed it!"

"I didn't do it on purpose! It moved on its own!"

"It's probably dead. It doesn't make those weird sounds anymore!"

"Erm... guys?" Harry asked, his headache intensifying because of the loud wizards.

"Amazing! I'll just have to know how this tale-phone is run by the bacteria! It even speaks with Harry's voice!"

"Harry!" Hermione screeched. It sounded as if someone was trying to pick up the phone while several voices exploded in hysterics. In the background chairs fell and glass shattered.

What were they doing? Were they getting in a fist fight over who was allowed to speak to him? And why wouldn't that surprise him?

Harry rubbed his temple, hoping to lessen the headache.

Really, this was almost too much to be worth it.

"Can you hear them, Harry", Hermione finally spoke to him. It appeared she had won the fight for the mobile. "I contacted the whole-"

"HARRY! ARE YOU IN THERE? WE'RE GOING TO RESCUE YOU!" Ron screamed directly into his ear, obviously having stolen the phone from Hermione.

Wincing, Harry held the phone several inches away while getting a strange look from Bob.

"Sorry, my cousin. The music he listens to is always too loud. Probably just one of his several hearing losses he sometimes gets..." Harry lied.

Into the phone, he said, "I'm not deaf, Ron."

"Give that to me, Ronald, "a bonk – most likely to the head – was heard," and help your mum in the kitchen." Hermione said rather harshly. "Sorry for that idiot. I didn't intend to lose the mobile. You know, almost the whole Order's here, gathered around me and looking at me like a litter of abandoned and kicked puppies. And they should! Just calling you like that!"

"It's ok, 'Mione, really."

For a moment, Harry could hear the wheels turning in her head, contemplating whether she should continue to rant about them and apologise for their behaviour, but in the end she allowed herself to be placated and instead asked, "How's your fever, Harry?"

"Better, I think. I've slept some."

"Good, but regardless, Poppy insists to have a look at you as soon as you're here. Tonks, Mr. Weasley and Charlie are going to get you."

"Why not Remus?" He asked, a bit disappointed.

"Remus is on a mission for the Order. He would have loved to come but he can't. So when and where?"

"Hang in there. I'm going to ask."

Turning around to face Bob, he asked, "When are we going to arrive in Carlisle? And where are you going to drop me off?"

"Can you get picked up there?"

"Yeah, my aunt and uncle live in some small village to the north."

"Okay, so they know Calisle?"

Harry nodded.

"Then I'm going to drop you off at the petrol station on the main street in one and a half hour. Is that ok?"

"Yes, of course. You've already done so much for me. They'll manage to be there on time. Did you hear that, Hermione?"

"Yeah, they'll be there. And I'll make sure they're dressed appropriately. Otherwise they would show up in mustard coloured parkas with green and pink striped trousers. You know how they are."

Harry snorted. "Thanks a lot, 'Mione. Could you bring a spare set of clothes?"

"Why ever that? What happened to yours?" Hermione asked, confused to no end.

"Long story. Do you really want to hear it?" Harry asked.

"Are you up to it?" Hermione enquired. "If so then yes."

He could almost see her curious glance she was throwing at him through the phone.

"Friends kicked me out of their car after a fight and I was still wearing my cross-dressing outfit. Luckily for me Bob got a spare set he could lent to me."

The incredulity in Hermione's silence was amusing, as far as Harry could muster up the strength to care.

"What is it, Hermione?"

"Has something happened?"

"Is Harry in danger?" Harry heard several voices in the background, concern dripping off of them.

Snapping out of her daze, Hermione said, not speaking into the phone but to the others, "Not now. Can't you see I'm busy?"

Then she said to Harry, "I'll make sure the take some clothes with them."

"Thanks, 'Mione. You're the best. See you soon."

Sighing, he leant back against the seat and closed his eyes. The pounding in his head receded some when the mobile tuuted, the voices stopped cutting into his muddled mind and the blinding light ceased from penetrating his aching eyes.

Finally. He was finally going home! In a few hours everything would be fine! Then he could _finally_ succumb to the sweet darkness without having to worry about anything. Hermione, Mrs Weasley and everybody else would take care of him and see to his every need. They would protect him and make sure that no harm would befall him.

Having heard their voices – especially the sure one of Hermione – had given him some much needed security and strength. And he desperately needed the strength to survive the next few hours until he was in the safety of his family's grasp.

"How come your parents live in London and your aunt and uncle close to Carlisle?" Bob asked hesitantly.

Eyes still closed, Harry enjoyed the soft sounds of swooshing air outside and answered, "My dad got a job offer in London so we had to move. But my aunt and uncle enjoyed the countryside so they stayed there."

Opening one of his eyes to a slit, Harry watched Bob who nodded with his gaze fixed onto the road. It seemed he was satisfied with the answer and after he hadn't questioned the boy-who-lived further, Harry asked after several moments , "Is it okay if I sleep some more? I don't feel so well. Could you wake me up when we get there?"

"Sure can do." Bob answered.

Nodding to himself, Harry snuggled into his seat as best as possible and drifted off into unconsciousness.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Wake up, Harry, almost there." Bob said.

Immediately the tiredness in his limbs was forgotten and he looked straight ahead, spotting the petrol station at the far end of the street.

Nervousness shot through his body, almost paralysing him. What if they weren't there? What if something had happened while waiting for him? What if Greyback had got wind of their rescue plan? The order could have been ambushed and tortured to get the information the monster needed to find him. The whole thing could be a trap!

And if this was indeed a trap then it would be next to impossible for him to escape a second time. Greyback would make sure of that. This time he would probably chain him down to the cave floor or imprison him in said cave or something like that. Even if he somehow managed to make a get away there was no way he stood a chance against the beast. The fight with Greyback had shown as much – hell it didn't even count as such! The monster had just stood there and every curse sent his way somehow got deflected!

On the other hand he felt all tingly at the thought of finally being reunited with his family again and to be rescued from the traumatic experience. Another encounter with the beast would be too much to bear. The ten days he had survived in the cave could already be considered as one of the most terrible experiences in his life. The insecurity and constant fear had driven him to the brick of insanity and still - it wasn't over yet! He was not safely tucked away in the folds of home yet and even then it would probably take weeks until he would feel nearly as secure again as he had before this incident. Even now in the truck he was struck by paranoia. Leaving the lorry would cost quite an effort when they would finally reach their destination. So it was certainly no wonder that he was torn between outright fear and happiness – a mix that settled as dizzy anticipation in his gut while he scanned the approaching petrol station.

Still it was hard to sit still despite the gnawing paranoia. Everything screamed for him to jump out of the driver's cab and run towards it because the lorry was moving so painfully slow! And at the same time it was much too fast.

Damn it all! He just wanted to be home again and not have these contradicting feelings!

After what seemed to be hours the lorry was finally close enough for Harry to make out details. He could see four persons standing in front of the petrol station in more or less unsuspicious clothes.

Four? Hadn't Hermione said that it would only be three? Immediately he suspected that something was wrong. Had Greyback overwhelmed his friends and was now waiting for him with some of his pack, so as to make sure that Harry wouldn't run away again? If that was the case he was doomed! After all he hadn't been able to deal with one werewolf. How was he supposed to deal with four?

Suddenly he saw something red gleaming in the sunlight. Harry narrowed his eyes and sighed in relief as he recognised the familiar red mops of hair of the Weasleys.

As soon as the truck drove into the car park and came to a stop, Harry pulled the door open and leapt onto the ground. He had just about enough time to turn around before he was jumped by an hysteric bush of brown hair, squeezing the breath out of him

"Hermione! Can't breathe!" Harry wheezed.

Letting go of him she took a step back but was still holding his hands.

"Oh sorry", she whispered while looking him over worriedly, relieved that he was still alive. Her gaze narrowed at his sweaty and pale features and the dark circles under his eyes.

Something was amiss with him, aside from the obvious illness, but she couldn't put her finger onto it – yet. She was sure that she would be able to find out about it, she just needed some more time.

"What are you doing here?" Harry asked confused.

"Making sure the others won't make complete fools out of themselves, of course." She said, smirking slightly and continued in a concerned voice, "You look dreadful, Harry. How are you?"

"To be honest, awful. But nothing Madam Pomfrey can't fix." He said, trembling slightly.

Then she realised what had been bugging her about Harry's appearance. She could look directly into Harry's startling green eyes, without any obstruction.

"Where are your glasses, Harry?" She asked surprised. How had he managed to come this far from who knows where without seriously hurting himself? After all he was almost blind without them. He could have run over by a car or bus because he hadn't seen it approaching! And how had he managed to hitch-hike if he couldn't see the approaching vehicle?

He was confused, that much Hermione could see, but why? It wasn't because he hadn't noticed the absence of his glasses, right? That would be a bit... odd, to say the least.

A searching hand crept over Harry's face, his eyes widening when he didn't encounter them on his nose.

"I... I don't know..." He finally said. "I don't know when I lost them..." His form trembled even more than before

"Shhh, it's okay, Harry. I don't blame you for anything." Hermione said, drawing soothing circles onto his back.

Still, it was a bit strange that he hadn't realised them missing earlier, Hermione thought, but pushed it to the back of his mind to contemplate about it later.

A hand came to rest on Harry's shoulder, surprising him for a moment. Turning around he looked into the smiling face of Mr. Weasley. Charlie and Tonks were standing next to him, delighted to see him.

"Welcome back, son." Mr. Weasley said, gently squeezing his shoulder. Tonks ruffled his hair affectionately and winked at him with a smile on her face.

"Uncle, Aunt, Charlie" Harry said, his voice breaking at the end. Tears came to his eyes at seeing that someone cared, that someone was there, that his family had come for him.

They were hugging him, patting his shoulder – he had never felt so protected and happy before in his life.

Finally Mr. Weasley let go of Harry and approached Bob, who stood next to the lorry, observing the happenings with a smile on his face.

Extending a hand, Mr. Weasley greeted the Muggle and said, "And you must be Bob! I can't tell you how grateful I am for your help. Thank you very much. I hope you didn't have to make a detour?"

"It was nothing. Driving alone can be boring at times." Bob answered, shaking hands with Mr. Weasley. "I really enjoyed his company."

Seeing the small talk his father made with Bob, Charlie approached Harry with a stack of clothes. "Lets go. You'll need to change before we can go." Harry nodded and thankfully took the clothes from Charlie.

Looking back at Mr. Weasley unsurely who was still talking to Bob, Charlie said, "I'll go with you. Hermione will make sure that he won't embarrass himself in front of the Muggle." A strong hand pushed him towards the facilities of the petrol station. "The clothes are from Ron, so they're probably a bit large but we didn't have anything else. Everything including your clothes was burnt."

Finally reaching the petrol station's bathroom, Charlie asked, "Are you alright on your own?" He didn't need to be a healer to see Harry's bad condition and if he could avoid the little one's passing out in one of the cubicles, he would help him changing.

"I'll manage." Harry said and vanished.

After a few minutes he reappeared in Ron's clothes, the one's of Bob neatly folded.

Taking the clothes from Harry's trembling hands, he guided the boy-who-lived back to his family.

When the rest of them saw them approaching, Bob looked down at his watch and said, "Oh, I have to go or I'll fall behind schedule. I'll go refuel now."

"Refuel? Wha-" Mr. Weasley asked, a fascinated gleam entering his eyes before Hermione elbowed him in the ribs.

"Dad, are we going now? Harry looks really bad." She said, interrupting his starting enquiry.

"Yes, yes, of course." He said absent-mindedly, probably still thinking about the meaning of 'refuel'.

"Thank you very much for picking me up and taking care of me." Harry said after giving a quizzical look into Mr. Weasley's direction.

"No problem, lad. Hope you get well soon and that you work out the problems with your friends." Bob said affectionately and ruffled Harry's hair.

"I'll just put these onto the seat, okay?" Harry asked who had taken back the clothes from Charlie. "That would be nice, Harry." Bob answered.

While Bob said his good byes to Harry's friends, the boy-who-lived went back to the lorry and put the clothes onto the seat. He was about to turn around when he noticed something out of the corner of his eyes. Looking closer, he noticed Greyback's shirt.

Somehow it drew him in and without noticing it he stretched out his hand towards it.

When he realized what he was doing he snatched his fingers back, holding them uncertainly against his chest.

What was he doing? He couldn't take this shirt with him. It wouldn't do him very good, he just knew it. Besides it belonged to GREYBACK! Why ever should he take it with him? That made absolutely no sense whatsoever!

"Harry, are you coming?" Tonks asked.

"Yeah!" He answered, and without realizing what he was doing he took the shirt and put it between his boxers and the waistband of Ron's jeans before he went back to the others to join them and say his good bye as well.

Bob waved one last time, then he left.

As soon as the lorry driver was out of sight, all strength left Harry and he stumbled slightly, his vision swimming and his body shivering.

"Are you okay, Harry?" Charlie asked while steadying him carefully.

Harry nodded, regretting the movement instantly.

"Can you walk?"

"Errr... just fine." Harry answered but at that moment his legs gave out. Strong arms caught his body before he could painfully fall to the ground.

"Gotcha!" Charlie said, smirking slightly.

Suddenly the world was spinning and he was drifting in the air.

A moment later he was put on someone's strong back, taking him piggyback.

The last thing he saw before he passed out was red hair.

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**R&R**

**Ideas are as always appreciated**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N:** We're SOOORRYYYYY! Really! We are! Actually we were looking forward to writing this chapter... but somehow... it was difficult... We never managed to write more than 2 pages... which was waaaay too short... and waaay too incomplete... so der-gestiefelte-kater was more or less creative... and wrote half a page (of the 2 pages) but wasn't happy with it... and then wofl1 was tinkering with it... and added another 1 ½ pages... (so we had the 2 pages) but still it was too short... and when we were both home... and we met... we were still looking at it... and looking at it... and decided to re-read our story (hoping to get in the mood to write anything)... and we found some mistakes... and some plot holes which needed sorting (we've discussed most of them and know how to get rid of them XD) but we still weren't creative enough to write anything... so the next time we met (which was in fact the 1st January... but we needed to finish this chapter because der-gestiefelte-kater returned on the 2nd to explore the world while wofl1 is still lazily sitting around doing nothing much but writing this A/N XD) we were doing hard core writing... and managed some more pages... and are now more or less happy with it.

Don't hit us please!

Thank you all for your reviews! We love all of them! And we would like to thank XxMyth MakerxX because her review got us writing again. We're going to answer the reviews via PM (the ones who weren't logged in are going to be answered here)

**Review Reply: **

_Jen:_ Yeah well Fenrir doesn't like another... large... man... close to his mate. We suspect (we're going with our instincts every time we write him so there really isn't much of planning we can do concerning him XDD) he's afraid of losing his mate to another which he shows through his possessiveness which of course also is due to the long and lonely search for his mate. Oh and we're probably not going to kill Bob, harm him maybe but most likely not kill.

**Disclaimer:** As usual, nothing's ours

**Warnings:** gore, blood, violence

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**Chapter 7**

Fenrir wrinkled his sensitive nose as soon as he stepped out of the shabby pub and onto the cobblestones of the small street in front of the pup. As always when he was in Knockturn Alley he couldn't wait to be gone again. Not because of fear – honestly nobody was crazy, or suicidal, enough to attack him – but because of the putrid smell. One of these days it would burn away the tiny hairs in his nose...

Stopping that line of thought – he had thought about it a million times and it hadn't helped him at all – he started walking down the dark and narrow alleyway. The dirt that had collected itself on the street crunched beneath Fenrir's buckskin boots and for once he was happy about having a pair.

Who knew into what he would be stepping if he hadn't had one.

The smell of cheap alcohol, needy bitches that had consumed drugs to no end, and unwashed bodies which had resided in the pup he had just come out of, had made his skin crawl – again not because of fear but because of revulsion – and his already bad mood had turned for the worse.

And now that sweet smell was replaced by the foul odour of old and fresh vomit and urine. As if that helped! On the contrary it worsened his mood even more and any living being that had retained enough of its brain fled as soon as they saw the dark look on his face.

Why did humans have the need to mark a territory they would never be able to claim? This street would always be property of the dark creatures no matter how much the humans would piss on it.

Or were they so ignorant they didn't know what they were doing? Didn't they know that every creature that wandered this street could smell their illegitimate claim?

Then again... he had lived – more or less – with Voldemort for the last... years... and he had learned that humans could be _very_ ignorant if they wanted to...

Anyway, the vomit and their useless claiming polluted the already mouldy air even further and didn't help Fenrir's mood at all. Waste water and trash were almost the last straw to his senses.

Walking down the street he noticed several mad stares which were warily following his every step. The insane glares belonged to haggard and gaunt frames that were sitting on the free space on the sides of the streets between different piles of rubbish.

Fenrir didn't spare them a second glance.

They had long ago lost their last human traits and now only lived for food, drugs and the occasional urge to be fucked so they were completely useless to him in his search for information. Not even their blood and flesh would be any good.

Not that his informants had been any more helpful than these blubbering fools! All they had been doing was wasting away on drinks and whoring themselves out instead of keeping their ears open for any useful information!

How was he supposed to find his mate like this?

His only clue was that his mate had been kidnapped by an unworthy Muggle after he had left the safety of the cave. He had gone, without notice, because there hadn't been any hint of anybody intruding his lair. But still Fenrir refused to accept that his mate had fled from him – that was just too absurd – and even worse, was now with the utmost probability in the filthy clutches of the perverted son-of-a-bitch!

He was aware of the fact that he was scary like hell. And he was aware that the pup was afraid of him being a Death Eater.

But that was still no reason for leaving the cave out of his own free will before that little incident! Mates didn't hurt each other!

He had lost any trace of his mate which was the reason why he had entered the pub hoping to get some nice and proper information but the bastards that provided him with what he wanted every now and then had been too absorbed in their fire whiskey of low quality.

He had dragged both of them out of the back door and had beaten the shit out of them. A lot of blood had been involved and even some broken bones but not even that had helped their motivation or their memories. Apparently they had already been too far gone in their alcohol consummation for their self preservation to kick in and so had not been very forthcoming at all.

Hence, nobody could be really pissed with him for forgetting himself, right? After all, he had lowered himself enough to come to this shitty pub and they had been completely stoned? Did they honestly believe he would be happy about their inebriation?

Grumbling at the memory, he continued his way down the dark alley.

In the end he had taken them by the throats, each one of them in one hand, and had bashed their heads against the stone wall. That had finally seemed to start some kind of fearful recognition in their eyes because they had started blabbering and blubbering in submissiveness.

However, they still hadn't been very helpful.

So in another fit of rage he had again banged their heads against the wall, with so much force that they had temporarily been knocked out. After that he had leaned forwards so that his toothy mouth was close to both of their throats and had threatened them, "Find him or die."

Then he had left them behind in a pitiful pile of fear and urine and had re-entered the pub so he could carry on with his search.

And now on the main road of Knockturn Alley he was still utterly clueless concerning the whereabouts of his mate.

Fucking hell, he wanted his little mate! And as soon as he got his claws on the person that had kidnapped him...! They would wish their bitch of a mother had never given birth to them at all! Damn them all! He needed to kill something! Now! Preferably the bastard of a kidnapper! And after the fucker was dealt with he would take care of his mate... He wouldn't be able to wait for much longer or he would lose his mind!

Damn it all to hell and the way back! He wanted him! Now! He was already so addicted to him that his whole being craved his presence!

A devilish grin stole on Fenrir's features. He would make certain that his little mate wouldn't be able to stand for the next week as soon as he had him.

Sudden movement ripped him from his thoughts and caught his attention. Turning his head he saw a piece of a cape disappear behind a corner.

Strange. That piece of cape hadn't appeared to be that worn and dirty as the majority of the clothes he normally encountered in this alley.

Who would be stupid enough to enter Knockturn Alley except for himself? Not a lot of people dared to, even if they had business here. In that case they often send lowly servants to do their business. Too great was the fear – especially of those pure blood bastards – that something might happen to them.

Curiosity piqued, he took a whiff.

His lips widened in a malicious smirk, showing of his sharp teeth as he recognised the scent of one Amycus Carrow, sworn Death Eater.

Maybe this day would be a good one, after all.

XXXXXXXXXXX

"Hello, Amycus. How have you been?" Fenrir drawled from the shadows several feet behind the Death Eater, scaring the shit out of him. He had been tailing the bastard in hopes of finding out at least something of his whereabouts – after all the Carrows were some of the son of a bitch's most loyal cock-suckers – but it seemed Carrow was determined to wander Knockturn Alley without real purpose.

Amycus whirled around, wand drawn and pointed into the darkness in front of the buildings surrounding the small, dirty alley he had been followed into.

Once Fenrir stepped into the twilight of the little street, the Death Eater relaxed his stance but didn't put his wand away not even lowering it.

Good, Fenrir thought. It would be so much more fun like this.

"Greyback, I haven't seen your mug for a while." Carrow sneered and added provocatively, "How does the search go?"

In the blink of an eye Fenrir gripped Carrow's throat and slammed him against the wall. Tightening his claws they pierced the soft skin and turned a bloody red. The Death Eater's eyes widened in shock, too surprised to defend himself.

"Do you have any information I should know about?" Fenrir asked creepily, hovering dangerously close to Carrow's ear, his breath like a soft breeze caressing the shell.

"Maybe something you want to share with me?" He purred, his other hand softly fondling the vulnerable belly of his prey.

"No." Carrow rattled, his voice raspy.

"Are you sure?" Fenrir's voice became even darker while the rough pad of his thumb stroked over the Death Eater's aorta.

"Additionally to you the Dark Lord sent a group to uncover the whereabouts of the Potter boy..." He hesitated and drew a shaky breath, closing his eyes momentarily. "And another one to make sure you followed orders... Looks like I've found you first but it seems that wasn't such a good thing to do after all."

A bitter smirk graced his ugly features.

"What about the Potter brat group? Did they find him?" Fenrir hissed and stopped moving the hand on Carrow's belly.

"Who cares? I was preoccupied with other things."

"Too bad." Fenrir growled, his eyes flashing a dangerous amber. The claws against Carrow's abdomen speared the black fabric and stomach without difficulty, pushed into the torn open flesh and pulled out a handful of innards. Blood splattered onto the cobblestones and Fenrir's clothes.

Disgusted Fenrir dropped the dying body of Amycus Carrow into the gutter, followed by the intestines which landed with a wet and splashy noise on Carrow's face. The guts' blood was dribbling down Amycus' features and dripped down onto the street. A red puddle was forming around Carrow's cooling body, soaking it, while it mixed with the filth and piss of the street.

Crouching down beside the Death Eater, Fenrir wiped off his bloodied hand on Carrow's cape.

Not sparing him a second glance, he stood back up again and strode away, not caring about the lifeless eyes boring into his back.

Damn it all to hell! How dare they question his loyalty? He would never break his word!

He snorted. As if! If he reached his goals like that... why not?

Besides, as it seemed, questioning his loyalties wasn't such a bad thing to do for the Dark Sucker. For once in his life the bastard showed intelligence. And he did so when it suited Fenrir the least. Of course the fucker had to grow a brain when Fenrir wasn't there to protect his fragile pup.

Best thing ever would be if he started mating with the bitch to reproduce! That would top it all! The sheer ugliness!

Little bastard brats running around everywhere they would start to hunt down his precious mate as well and if Fenrir wasn't with him they would start to molest him! Fucking hell!

Okay, that was a bit far fetched, Fenrir had to admit... But really! Why now of all times!

Wait a moment... Now that he thought about it... He just had to follow the trail Voldemort was leaving. The only thing he had to do was follow his "stalkers" and get his information there.

Surely the others knew more than the idiot Carrow about his mate's location because really – the only reason Carrow was sent on this mission was that he was such a nuisance due to his stupidity. No wonder everybody wanted to get rid of him.

As long as he didn't know for sure who had him he would always assume the worst case scenario which meant that the Death Eaters had him in their clutches so killing them off meant less danger in the long run. After all he had no other choice but to switch sides now that his mate was on the light side. Even if the little one wasn't there was no way the bastard would allow him back after he had massacred so much of his followers – not that that was really such a loss. And if his sweet mate was at his former family's place he wasn't in danger at all.

So no matter where his mate was, the information Fenrir would gain from the Death Eaters would lead him to the little one in the end.

And it would certainly be amusing how the bastard and that next to useless Order of That Bloody Bird would react to an unknown third party – which would be him.

Chuckling evilly to himself at the thought, he leaned against a wall. He just had to stop by at the Order's hiding place – wherever that might be. Maybe it would be interesting to go and see Snape for further information on that... And as soon as he knew where he had to go he would pay them a visit.

Another evil chuckle.

That would certainly be fun.

For a moment Fenrir was deep in thought, imagining their faces when he would just pop out of nowhere, but was ripped from his excited mood when he suddenly sensed an unknown presence next to himself.

"Stones purify the stomach, you should try it."

Irritated for being pushed away from his positive thoughts, Fenrir looked to his side. He spotted a worn out man in ragged clothes whose hands were holding onto the wall. His whole body was only inches from touching the rocky surface while his nose seemed to almost kiss it. He was mumbling quietly to himself.

"I lost my marbles." Fenrir said into his direction.

If he played his cards right this conversation could turn out useful to him – at last somebody who could know something!

"We would have noticed if such beautiful marbles had crossed our path."

Fenrir chuckled.

The guy's humour was as crappy as ever!

Smelling a lost soul, Fenrir wasn't prepared for the screamed, "No! NO! Don't hurt us! We don't have it!"

Fenrir winced at the hysteric shout. His eardrums were ringing when he looked at the man, confused, but didn't say anything at all. One just had to take the man's moods as they came because if you reacted to them you would sooner or later go crazy. Waiting for the drunkard to disappear, he asked, "How do you know – about my lost marbles?"

"We have our ways." The lunatic paused and seemed to watch something on the wall intensely before he continued, "We are the walls and the walls are we! - And walls have ears!"

"And...?" Fenrir inquired impatiently.

The wall whisperer turned to him in a moment of clarity, his white eyes focusing on Fenrir's amber ones, piercing his very soul.

"A stone. I want the usual ancient stone from your territory!" He said, his voice for once serious without the typical madness. His eyes narrowed as he fixed Fenrir with a stern gaze. "And I'll see what I can do for you!"

"As soon as you have found him."

The man turned back to the wall, his skin turning the pattern of the wall while first his hands vanished slowly into the stony material. Afterwards his body was absorbed until nothing was left of him.

* * *

So yeah... you are allowed to hit us after this rather... strange chapter... we were considering rewriting it after we had finished it...but decided against it because we need the "wall talker"... and if you think we're crazy for creating him... he's actually real! Just watch the 6th movie (which of course isn't ours, either) where Harry, Ron and Hermione are following Draco Malfoy through Knockturn Alley... You'll find him there!

**Please R&R**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: **Finally! After several obstacles to overcome (i.e. a thrown away flash drive with our notes followed by complete discouragement followed by not seeing each other for a long time etc.) we've finally managed to write the next chapter!

**THANKS FOR EVERYBODY TO KICK OUR ARSES!**

**Disclaimer: **We don't own HP and "the Hound of Baskerville". Falstone exists but we don't own it either. Both David Jackson and Edward Pattinson are figments of our imagination.

**Warning: **wow surprisingly none

* * *

** Chapter 8  
**

"_Vicious Killer strikes – Two corpses beyond recognition found! _

_Tragedy at Falstone. Two mutilated corpses were found in forest. Community horror-stricken. _

_The 17th August seemed to be a day as every other in the life of hunter David Jackson (45). When he went into the forest at dawn he never suspected that it would be one of the worst days of his life. _

_According to the spokesman of the police, Jackson found a trail of blood and was led away from his usual path. _

_'Our interrogation concerning Mr. Jackson's reasons to be so far away from any civilisation turned out to be as following', a spokesman of the police told the press conference. 'While hunting Mr. Jackson encountered a trail of blood that led him away from his typical hunting ground. Out of experience he followed the trail because he was convinced that it belonged to an animal which was suffering from mortal wounds to put it out of its misery.' _

_'Mr. Jackson, however, was not prepared for the sight that greeted him. His mind has sustained great mental strain upon finding the gruesome crime scene and he is now staying at the local hospital under special supervision.' _

_Jackson was not the only person that was affected by the crime scene but several police officers as well. _

_Limbs and various other unidentifiable body parts covered the ground tinting it red. It turned out the extremities were brutally severed from their body and thrown away. Judging by the wounds it was impossible for a human being to cause such extensive damage – only a large animal like a bear or a wolf could muster up enough strength._

_Post-mortem examinations have revealed that both of the bodies have already been dead for several days due to the start of decay. _

_Further examinations have shown that the victims were still alive when their bodies were assaulted._

_'The footprints in the clearing indicate the presence of a large, four-legged mammal.' Expert zoologist Edward Pattinson of the local zoo stated. 'The shape of the footprints suggests that it was a wolf but its paws would be far too large. The average wolf's shoulders reach between 60 to 95 cm, however, the size of the footprints hints that it is about a meter to 1,20 in height. There is no record of a wolf this big ever being sighted.' (for more information on wolves turn to p. 15)_

_Another question is its origin. Wolves are extinct in the United Kingdom and no zoo has reported a break out of these carnivores. _

_Funnily enough the mysterious animal has not taken one single bite out of the dead bodies to sate its own hunger. Maybe a 'Hound of the Baskervilles' has appeared. If so the local population has to shiver in fear because there is no Sherlock Holmes to solve this case. _

_Another mysterious occurrence is that there have been footprints of a third person found nearby. They came to a halt in front of the gruesome scene and have vanished. _

_'The disappearance of the third person's footprints is still a mystery.' The spokesman of the police told the press conference. 'Curious is that the wolf's footprints start a few metres from where the ones of the third person stop.' _

_The spokesman completely omitted the fact that the police is in the dark about the Hound of the Baskervilles case. _

_The police requests to maintain constant vigilance and not to panic. Upon encountering anything that resembles the Hound do climb a tree or shut yourself in a house, seek cover and call the police immediately. _

_There is, however, no cause for panic." _

Shacklebolt's voice faded and he lowered the newspaper. He looked at the assembled crowd and saw shocked confusion in every face.

"That is all very tragic, Kingsley, but what does this have to do with our meeting? I understood we had very urgent matters to discuss?" Professor McGonagall said.

Looks of surprise were sent her way, but after seeing the stern expression on the Gryffindor teacher's face, they reluctantly agreed that she was right. "Now, now, Minerva. Don't be so impatient." Dumbledore interjected.

"I found this article this morning on my table and I went to investigate with a group of my colleagues."

"Why should the Ministry send Aurors over there?" Charlie asked.

"The higher-ups assumed it was a magical concern – in fact it was rumoured that the corpses were former Death Eaters."

A sharp intake of breath was heard.

"And...?"

"Spit it out already! We don't have all day! Who did us the favour?" Moody growled.

"Well, they were indeed Death Eaters... And they were most likely killed by a werewolf."

Suddenly everybody talked at once. An uproar broke out among the Order and chaos erupted.

"Silence!" Dumbledore bellowed.

"But the wolves are on You-Know-Who's side! And single wolves wouldn't dare to incur his wrath!"

"Such assumptions should not be made hastily." Snape sneered.

"What do you mean, Severus?" Mr. Weasley enquired.

Giving him a dark look Snape answered, "As I would have informed you in due time, there was a rather interesting occurrence during the last meeting."

"Please tell us, Severus." Dumbledore said.

"An old acquaintance delighted us with their presence." Snape said sarcastically.

"Who?"

"The leader of the beasts."

"Fenrir Greyback? But that's an ally of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named! That doesn't make any sense!"

"Of course it does, you fool! And I will explain it so that even someone as dim-witted as you can follow. The Dark Lord wished to know about the abduction of the Potter boy."

"What do you mean? Greyback never handed Harry over?"

"Obviously not. Please refrain from interrupting."

"Severus, please continue."

Inclining his head, he said, "Greyback told the Dark Lord that Potter was no longer in his possession thus he was not telling the truth. He even insinuated that he was already in the safety of our presence. From my viewpoint I could clearly ascertain that Greyback was exceptionally aggressive and agitated even for his measure."

"You mean he was outright lying to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named?" Mrs Weasley asked, unbelieving.

"Indeed."

"And what has this got to do with the article?"

"It's means, Nymphadora, that the beasts most likely do not side with the Dark Lord any longer."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Green eyes came into focus and looked around dazedly. Very soon he made out bushy brown hair to his left. "Welcome back, Harry." Hermione said.

"Where...?" He rasped. His throat burned and felt unbelievably dry.

Trying to sit up, dark spots appeared in his vision and he regretted the movement immediately.

"Relax! You are safe now." She said and gave him a glass of water. Gratefully taking it, he started to gulp down the contents but choked on them.

"Easy there. Drink slowly." She admonished him and waited for his coughing fit to die down. "We brought you back to Grimmauld Place. You nearly gave us a heart attack just passing out like that."

Relieved, he took a shaky breath. The nightmare had finally come to an end. He no longer had to fear being slaughtered, tortured or given over to Voldemort. At last he was with his friends again.

"Is everyone ok?", he asked, his voice not as hoarse as before. He must have been screaming in his feverish dreams. He remembered waking up to horrid pictures, drenched in sweat, crying and clutching his neck. And he remembered Molly softly calling his name while cooling his forehead.

"Of course everybody is, stupid! Just a bit worried. Besides, I should be asking YOU this question! How are you feeling?" She asked.

"I'm fine." He answered automatically.

She frowned. "Are you sure? Your neck was infected very badly. And your feet were torn."

"Yeah."

Hermione rolled her eyes.

"If you think so. Well... About the fire, you know? The one that destroyed the Burrow?"

"How much could be saved?"

"Not much. The Weasleys lost nearly everything but nobody was hurt. For the moment they're living here. And well, you got lucky. Most of your things were in your trunk and it seems it's fire resistant. So your cloak and map are safe."

"And Hedwig? Did she make it?" He asked, desperation clear in his voice.

"Of course she did. She's a clever girl. She escaped as soon as the fire started."

Relieved, he let out the breath he didn't know he had been holding.

"And Ginny? She was with me in the field when it... happened."

"Yes, she's fine. Just a scratch." Hermione looked at him uncertainly and hesitated, but finally asked, "Harry, about what has happened...You should talk about it with someone?"

"What do you know?"

"Well... we saw how you sprinted after Bellatrix into the fields with Ginny at your heels...and we tried, too, but the fire cut us off... and Ginny told us that you were led away from the Burrow. And in the fields you were ambushed by Greyback. But she couldn't recall the happenings correctly...one moment you were fighting against him and the next she was roughly shoved aside...she blacked out because she hit her head on a stone...but you weren't there any more when we arrived shortly after that! And everywhere was blood!"

Hermione's voice cracked and she had tears in her eyes.

"Oh Harry, we searched and searched! But we only found the trail of blood leading to the spot where he had apparated you away. God, we assumed the worst! We couldn't find a trace of you... and you were away for so long...and all the blood...We thought...of course he wants ... alive... but..."

"Shh, its ok now," Harry said, taking her crying form in his arms while his own throat sized up.

"...thought...what if..." she sobbed into his shirt and desperately holding onto it.

"Shh", he said and fought his own tears.

Embracing each other for a moment, both of them calmed down. Finally, Hermione sat back and looked him in the eyes, her own red and puffy.

"...the blood..." She wiped away the tears. "How?"

"...Ginny was shielding my back when … it happened..." He said, his voice was shaking at the end. "My spells... they repelled off of him...and I was ...nothing seemed to work... and I couldn't remember the things we learned about werewolves...and … and...he just stood there and waited...waited till I realised..."

He took a deep breath.

"Then he attacked... I was thrown to the ground... Everything happened so fast… I can only remember a piercing pain at my neck… I passed out after that..."

"He bit you!" Hermione blurted out, "That's where the neck wound comes from, isn't it...?"

Nodding he looked to the side and gingerly touched the bandages that were tightly wrapped around his throat and upper body.

"Harry, I'm-"

"Hermione!" The door burst open and banged against the wall. Ron was standing in the frame, his face red with excitement.

"We just eavesdropped on the Order Meeting with some extendable ears! Guess what we found out!"

His wildly flailing arms came to a stop when he spotted Harry.

"Harry! Mate! You're awake! How're you doing?"

"Hey Ron", Harry answered in a timid voice. "I'm fine."

"How long's he been awake for? Why hasn't anybody told me?" The redhead asked Hermione.

"Simple, Ronald. Certain people were busy spying illegally on SECRET Order meetings instead of sitting with their best friend." She said, glaring at him.

Ron looked down at his feet guiltily.

"At least someone has to find out because nobody ever tells us anything." He mumbled under his breath.

"So what's the big news?" Harry asked, trying to ease the tension.

"Well, in short, Greyback has lost his marbles. Seems like he lied to You-Know-Who about Harry's location and his wolves killed two Death Eater bastards without a reason. And now they are wildly speculating about their motives or if they've finally cracked."

"What do you mean Greyback has lied about Harry's location?"

"Well, Snape told the Order that Greyback said that he didn't have Harry any longer but at that time as far as we know Harry was still with him."

"Oh", Hermione said. Then she frowned and asked, "So the wolves don't side with you-know-who any longer?"

"Seems so..."

"But why..."

Her voice faded out while Harry watched them argue. He still had one hell of a headache but it was so good to see their faces. The both of them often had those heated arguments when they were together and he would have never imagined that he would miss those at some point, too.

Yet he actually had! And he had missed their voices, too. But it was so hard to follow the conservation right now and he couldn't keep his mind off the questions which kept nagging him in the back of his head.

Did they get some kind of wrong information? Surely the wolves wouldn't change sides out of the blue, would they? And if they did... why would Greyback lie about his location? Because there was no chance that the werewolf did know that Harry had escaped when he had left the cave...so why did he lie? The only reason which kept popping up in his mind was that Greyback never intended to bring him to Voldemort...or he first wanted to but then changed his mind...this was all so confusing.

He sighed while his eyes fell closed and his reeling mind spiralled into darkness.

XXXXXXXXXXX

"Harry," someone whispered from afar. Rustling. Then a curtain was drawn and light flooded the room.

"Harry dear." The same voice said.

"Mhm" He mumbled and yawned. Opening his eyes lazily, Molly Weasley came into focus.

"Morning, sleepy head! Hermione told me that you are feeling better now. Do you want some breakfast?" She asked while balancing a tray packed with delicious smelling food.

"You must be hungry! I made porridge and pancakes. And you have to drink a lot so I've got some tea for you. In the vial with the blue stopper is a pain-relieving-potion and in the other one a blood replenishing. Both are not to be taken on a empty stomach. So eat up." She said while helping him to sit up. Then she placed the tray on his lap.

"Here you go." She said. "And don't you worry about your shirt. You were clutching it so tightly that I couldn't throw it away so I put it in the laundry. But it has a lot of holes in it so I'm going to patch it before you can get it back."

He paled at the mention of the shirt but mumbled a quiet "Thanks."

The damn shirt! Why hadn't he gotten rid of it when he had changed?

"Harry, dear, are you really ok? You look a bit pale around the nose. Eat something."

As soon as she mentioned a meal the pleasant smell of food reached his nose, making his mouth water and his stomach grumble.

He didn't even notice Mrs Weasley leaving the room, too preoccupied in grabbing the spoon.

When was the last time he had eaten something? Abruptly he halted in his movement.

He remembered! How could he have forgotten?

That one time Greyback had brought back game! He had been terrified when he had seen him covered in blood, the body of a dead animal slung over his shoulder. Shocked, he had tried to crawl away again but in the process had reopened his wound and had passed out again.

_The obtrusive smell of smoke and fire tickled his nose. Instantly awake he thought for a moment that he was back at the Burrow that had been set fire to and worried for the Weasley family. _

_However, the soft but hard surface he was lying on and the penetrating smell of dog clinging to it stopped him from panicking. Of course, he wasn't at the Weasley's, hadn't been for some time now. The underlying smell of herbs that had been put on his wounds, as well as the other impressions his nose had caught, should have reminded him that he was still in the cave. _

_The crackling of a fire somewhere in the cave made him open his eyes. As far as he could remember there hadn't been one burning when he had awoken the first time. _

_He spotted Greyback sitting at a bonfire in the middle of the cave. In his hands he was holding a haunch of an animal at its bone, every so often he turned it so it would get darker everywhere. The cadaver and the innards had miraculously disappeared and the only reminder that it had been there was some left over blood and a pile of neatly cut meat. _

_Now that he thought about it, Harry turned his gaze back to the meat in Greyback's hands. It looked rather dark, burnt even. _

_Harry narrowed his eyes. Had that beast never cooked anything? Then again, he was exactly that, a beast, and probably had no idea about how to softly grill anything at all. After all, the monster preferred his food bloody, and kicking if possible. _

_Harry's stomach did a flip at the notion of live game. The thought of eating anything that was still alive and pumping made him want to throw up - _

_A large wave of heat coming from Greyback's direction distracted him from his thoughts. Turning his head back towards the beast, Harry was able to see the haunch in the beast's hand happily burning. _

_What. The. Hell? _

_Staring with wide eyes at the burning meat, Harry watched in amazement how Greyback studied the burning bone in his hand before he picked at it with his claws, the flame slowly dying down. Narrowing his eyes, the monster brought the dark and obviously burnt meat to his nose and sniffed at it. Then he threw it away and turned to the pile of meat at his side. This time he took some sort of bloody steak and pierced it with a stick before starting to roast it. _

_Mesmerised, Harry watched Greyback work. _

_Only moments later did the monster finish his work and turn around to face him. Immediately the small hairs on Harry's arms stood on end. _

_Greyback didn't intend to eat Harry with the grilled meat, right...? That would be totally... _

_Before Harry could do anything, Greyback started to move towards him. _

_Eyes widening in terror, he was frozen to the spot, his heart was pounding a mile a minute. _

_He really didn't want to eat him... right? _

_He could hear the blood rushing in his ears. Would he die now? _

_Suddenly, the beast sat down in front of him cross-legged. _

_Why was he sitting down in front of him? He couldn't possibly plan to attack him while sitting, right? _

_Suspicious, he watched Greyback lifting the meat in his hand. _

_Harry's eyes widened. The beast didn't want to struck him down with the roasted meat, did he? _

_Stunned he watched as Greyback presented the steak to him. _

_Minutes ticked by as he stared at the beast, unmoving. _

_Slowly lowering the meat, Greyback looked back at Harry, unblinking. For a moment, Harry thought he had seen confusion in the amber eyes. _

_Then Greyback brought the meat to his own mouth and bit into it, tearing a large chunk out of it. Chewing on it, Greyback's features contorted in disgust. Turning half away, he spat it out and looked at the steak, growling irritatedly. _

"_Disgusting little shit. How can humans eat this?" _

_Harry stared at him curiously. Had Greyback wanted him to eat that? _

_Unconsciously, Harry leant forwards slightly. _

_Abruptly, the amber eyes studied him again. Harry stared back for a moment, but then his gaze dropped to the only food he had seen in days. _

_His stomach cramped painfully and his mouth watered. _

_Surely, the meat couldn't be that bad, could it? He had probably eaten much much worse things at the Dursley's, if he was lucky and got anything at all. _

"_Whatever", Greyback sneered and held it out to Harry again. _

_Was it really for him? _

_Harry's hand twitched. _

_What did he have to lose? He was so hungry! _

_Shooting one last look at Greyback's face, his hand slowly inched towards the steak. _

_Holding his breath, Harry braced himself. He still wasn't convinced that the food was really for him. _

_After what seemed to be forever, his fingers slowly closed around the meat. As soon as Greyback released it, Harry pulled it towards himself. _

_Glancing suspiciously at the beast, he sniffed at the steak and after deeming it eatable he bit into it. The juices of the steak filled his mouth and he eagerly chewed on the tough but otherwise edible meat. _

_After he had wolved down half of the steak, Harry became aware of the penetrating gaze of Greyback. Looking up, his mouth full of meat their gazes met before Harry hastily turned away again. _

_Suddenly he had lost all apatite and put the remaining meat on the ground in front of him. _

_For a moment, nothing happened, then the meat was lifted by a large hand and taken away. Seconds later, Greyback appeared in his line of vision and sat down cross-legged again. _

_A small bowl was put between them. _

"_Eat!" _

_Curious, Harry looked into it and saw two wild strawberries and three blackberries. _

_Hesitantly, he took the bowl into his hands and after confirming one last time that they were really for him he cautiously put one into his mouth. Carefully rolling it around on his tongue, he probed the berry's texture. After a moment the soft flesh of the berry melted away in his mouth while its taste unfolded. It was not overly sweet but still tasty and it left a slight sour after taste. _

_He had to fight the desire to close his eyes in delight. He would never make himself so vulnerable in front of Greyback. _

_Not able to resist he devoured the other four berries and relished in the treats. He ignored the sugary and sticky juice dripping down his chin. Too immersed was he in the explosion of flavour. _

_Out of the corner of his eyes he caught a movement. Turning his attention away from the bowl he was about to look up when suddenly a clawed finger was put under his chin and his head was tilted up. _

_Immediately his eyes met those of the beast and widened when he realised that Greyback was studying him. Then the werewolf inched closer and the amber eyes dropped down from Harry's to his chin. _

_He was really close now. His other hand was put next to Harry's thigh, encasing him. _

_Frozen to the spot Harry's body started to sweat and to shake involuntarily. _

_Subconsciously, he noticed that Greyback shifted his weight so that his hand supported more of his weight. _

_Almost panicking, he saw how Greyback leant forwards in one bold move, his hot breath ghosted over his chin for a moment before the tip of his tongue darted out to gently lick away the berries' juices. _

Blushing furiously he shook his head. He could still feel the wet trail on his skin that was left behind by the rough tongue and a strange tickling sensation.

Why had Greyback done that? There had been absolutely no reason for it! Even more so, as far as he knew, Greyback was carnivorous and didn't even like berries!

But now that he thought about it, Greyback hadn't seemed to want to hurt him, as strange as that sounded.

Absent-mindedly, he dug the spoon into the porridge and began to eat with a frown on his face.

Greyback even appeared to be... nice...? At least for his measure.

The berries had been really tasty after all.

And somehow it all fit into the picture of the rumour of him having switched sides.

Greyback had never really intended to harm him, had even taken care of him and given him food. Besides that he had flat out lied to Voldemort because when he had been summoned Harry had still been there.

Had Harry imagined all of this or had it all been an attempt to lure him into a false sense of security to get...

… to get what exactly?

* * *

**R&R**


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: Still nothing ours! **

**Warning: Really bad and corny romance scene and strange obsession with shirts! XD  
**

**A/N:** We are soooooooooooooooo sorry for making you wait so long! University has been a bitch to both of us so we were kind of... dead... and even when der-gestiefelte-kater was motivated to write something wofl1 still not up to it. we did actually write quite a lot during Christmas break but there were huge gaps in between because for some reason it wasn't easy to write although we were eager to do it. So now we actually only posted half of what we first wanted to because we still need to beta the second half.

We were high on Haribo Gold Bears (nothing ours by the way) - Great stuff! You should try it! (It's our substitution for the lack of apple pie) Please ignore the surreptitious advertising... But you will know what we are talking about as soon as you've finished reading this chapter...

So right now, we are quite tired (it's only about 1 am but who cares) so our "witty" comments have to wait until tomorrow XD

Thanks to all who had the time to read and/or review! It helped us get our extremely lazy arses back up to do some work here! Reviews will be answered via PM.

So on with the story now!

* * *

** Chapter 9   
**

Laying his still not finished homework onto the bedside table next to various vials of potions, Harry looked out of the window for a moment while sitting in bed.

The weather outside was nice, the sky light blue, only some clouds here and there, the grass was green and the birds were singing merrily.

He could vomit! Of course, it was beautiful, and during the first days of his stay here he had appreciated the view, but not any longer.

Grabbing one of the potions, he downed it and decided to finally get up and **do** something before he went mad out of boredom.

His body might still feel weak and at the same time heavy, but he couldn't stand rolling around in bed.

As soon as Harry opened the door of his room, loud voices could be heard coming from downstairs.

Scrunching up his forehead into a frown – it sounded like arguing? – he decided to limp down the hall and see what was going on.

Now that he was up and about, he realised that he still felt really weak, even more so than he had already guessed.

No matter, he wanted to know what was going on around him.

His body was sweating already although he hadn't covered any distance at all and his whole balance was off, too. It was hard not to fall down and hurt himself.

Besides that his foot and ankle hurt, which made walking even more difficult. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew that he had sprained his ankle on his run and had torn up the soles of his feet, but he didn't remember the details. He reckoned his fever had been too high for him to be able to.

Suddenly, pain shot through his injured ankle making him grimace. So deep in his thoughts he hadn't bothered to look where and how he stepped onto the floor. Now his sprained ankle was thanking him exceptionally...

He snorted to himself. Yeah, note the sarcasm...

Continuing his way towards the stairs, he forced himself to ignore his hurting limb.

When he finally reached them, he looked down and a moment later cursed profoundly.

Of course, Grimmauld Place had to have THE longest staircase in the world!

It would take him hours to reach the bottom in his current condition!

Well, nothing would happen if he didn't get a move on!

So he started to limb down the stairs, taking very slow and cautious steps. After all, he didn't want to strain his foot any more than he already had.

When he was down about halfway, he had to stop and take a small break.

He really was still very weak. And the blood that had begun to pump as soon as he had started to exert himself made his head spin and his vision blur.

In an effort not to fall down he gripped the railing so hard his knuckles started to become white.

His breathing had become laboured.

Hell, was he already this exhausted? How was he going to get down without hurting himself? In the state he was in it would be close to impossible!

Well, he wouldn't be a proper Gryffindor if he didn't face challenges head on.

Bracing himself, he continued his way downstairs taking one step at a time. To distract himself from any pain he might feel, he listened to the voices and observed that they were really coming from the kitchen and were steadily growing louder.

And then suddenly – he had to hold onto the banister again so he wouldn't fall, he was that surprised – he heard Mrs Weasley shouting, "Ronald Weasley!" Her voice rang through the whole house not far ahead of him. " How many times do I have to tell you not to leave your socks everywhere?"

Sniggering followed her outburst. Apparently, Fred and George were having a field day at Ron's expense.

Grinning, Harry slowly made his way further downstairs.

"Mum!" Ron called indignantly. "They are antique pink! There's absolutely no bloody way they can be mine!"

Harry's jaw dropped in amazement.

Antique pink? That was news to him! They had been rooming together for about 5 years and would start their 6th very soon and Harry had never seen even the tiniest hint of something like that!

"But Ronnikins! Don't you remember? They were custom-made for your dress robes for the Yule Ball in 4th year!"

The twins' sniggering intensified and they started to chant something like "Ronnikins turns transsexual!", repeating it like a mantra for their own amusement just to annoy Ron.

Harry could already picture them, dancing around their little brother to drive him mad while he was trying to hit them. A small smile crept onto Harry's face.

"Really, boys, how old ARE you?" He heard Ginny ask, irritated. Before he could react in any way, the door opened and she came out of the kitchen. Seeing him on the stairs she halted in mid-step. Staring at him, a surprised "Harry" left her lips as she was caught off-guard.

Harry himself was at a loss of words. Minutes seemed to tick by, Harry's loud breathing the only thing resounding through the air while they looked at each other.

Between the angst and paranoia he had felt during his summer vacation adventure, he had sometimes seen her face in his dreams, smiling, laughing, with those cute dimples in her cheeks, all mixed into a confusing blur of emotions. Amber eyes had always followed him, watching, not leaving him out of their sight.

When he had been awake, he had always wished for her safety, had hoped that the Death Eaters hadn't done anything to her. Had wished that she wasn't going through the same... But at the same time he had also desperately wished for someone – for her – to hold onto while sanity had slowly slipped away from him, replaced by fear and desperation.

Now with her standing at the end of the stairs, his mind felt caged and restless, everything was spiralling down on him, paralysing him so that he could do nothing.

"You're awake," Ginny said, her voice so soft and unbelieving he almost hadn't been able to catch what she had said, but effortlessly ripping him out of his thoughts.

"How are you feeling? You look t..." She paused. "...not good. Shouldn't you be in bed?"

"No!" He called a bit too loudly and all breath left him while his shoulders slumped. The next moment he felt silly for his outburst. Ginny frowned at him.

"Sorry, it's just... everyone keeps asking me how I feel and stuff..." He heard himself say, feeling utterly foolish.

"We're just worried", she said

"I know." He sighed. "How are you doing? Hermione told me that almost nothing could be saved from the Burrow "

"We manage... My family never had much... at night I sometimes hear mum and dad argue – pretty much everything was burned in the fire and they don't know where to live or how to buy food and our school things..." She said, her eyes clouding over. She was close to tears. "Charlie and Bill both tried sending us money but you know mum and dad. They won't take it. Don't want to be a burden. Especially with Bill and Fleur being engaged and a possible wedding in the future..."

"You know, you can stay here at Grimmauld Place..."

"Yeah, I think they just need time to adjust. Dad practically built the Burrow all by himself and they don't want to be a burden..."

Suddenly, he felt part of his strength leave him. He tightened his grip on the banister. Ginny must have seen something, even from that distance, because in the next moment, she frowned and said, "You look really..." After another look at him, she finished, "...pale."

"I'm fine, really. I would've gone insane if I had stayed in bed one more minute..."

"If you're sure...", she replied, unconvinced. But instead of saying anything more on the matter, she continued to study him seriously.

"You know, somehow, you look different...Your glasses! Where are your glasses?" She exclaimed, surprised.

His eyes widened a fraction.

Unbelieving, he touched his nose.

Where were his glasses...? He hadn't noticed that they were missing.

Strange... he could see just fine without them...

When could he have possibly lost them? He must have lost them somewhere on the way to Greyback's cave. He remembered waking up and groping for them but without success. That meant he hadn't been using them for a while now.

But that would mean that his eye-sight had been miraculously restored during the time he had been unconscious.

"Harry...?"

"Eh...I lost them..."

"Why didn't you tell anyone you lost them? They would've transfigured a pair for you."

Dumbstruck, he stared at her. Even if his eye-sight were as miserable as before he wouldn't have thought about that...

"... it's not as if I'm completely blind without them ..." He mumbled under his breath, hoping that she would let it go.

Everything was just so strange and confusing!

She would never believe him if he told her his eyes had been healed miraculously. And then she would probably declare him mad and tell everyone.

THAT was really something he wasn't ready to face yet. Hell, he couldn't even explain it himself!How was he to answer their questions?

"Of course you are! Everybody knows that!" Ginny retorted obliviously.

"But I can see you just fine!" Harry replied vividly. "Your shape, your red hair, your deep brown eyes, your lovely lips, even every last one of your cute freckles!"

She stared at him for a moment, her mouth open in surprise.

What was she looking at him like that for? Mentally going over what he had just said, he blushed when he noticed his words.

Had he really just said that?

How corny was that?

Looking sheepishly at her and even a bit shy, he sent a small smile her way.

A slight flush rose to colour her own cheeks.

Returning his smile she came up all the way to him. When she reached him, she stopped for a moment and pecked him fleetingly. Paralysed, he turned as red as a tomato.

"Oh." He said absent-mindedly while staring after her retreating back which was about to disappear on the upper floor.

Dreamily he walked down the rest of the stairs, blank minded while the situation of just now repeated itself again and again.

Just as he reached the end of the stairs, loud voices coming from the kitchen ripped him from his trance.

Shaking his head, he gathered himself and turned towards the ruckus.

He was about to open the door when he suddenly noticed a strange pull coming from his left.

Narrowing his eyes, he looked down the dimly-lit corridor. Nearly at the end, he could make out an inconspicuous door in the twilight. It caught his attention, enthralled him and lured him away from the kitchen...

Before he could stop himself, he had already reached the wooden door.

Reaching for the handle, he hesitated.

He had learned the hard way that strange, ensnaring things normally meant his doom – or at least some sort of catastrophe. Maybe going through that door wasn't a good idea after all.

Shaking his head, he tried to turn away but realised he couldn't. His curiosity wouldn't let him do that. His gaze snapped back to the door, which seemed to look even more inviting than before. And now curiosity got the better of him.

Pushing all thoughts of self-preservation from his mind, he turned the knob and slowly opened the door.

His body was tense with anticipation. Ready to face whatever it was that lurked behind the door – after all a lot of things could be contained in Wizarding Houses – disappointment and confusion settled in his mind as the light flickered on.

Rows of clothes in all colours and sizes were hanging on lines arranged all over the small room. It smelled of fresh washing powder and soap with a tiny amount of citron.

The laundry room? Why had his instincts told him to come here? What could possibly be of any interest in here?

Slowly walking through the room, he eyed every last piece of cloth he came across.

Still nothing interesting.

He came to a stop in front of a pile of folded laundry.

Immediately he recognised the shirt on top. It was the one he had been wearing in Greyback's cave.

The mud and blood had vanished and the holes had been patched.

Staring at it wide-eyed, Harry didn't realise what he was doing until his fingers almost touched it. When he finally did notice what he was doing he snatched his hand away as if burned.

Had that been it? Had the shirt been the reason he had felt compelled to enter the laundry room? But why? After all, it was just a lousy shirt! A lousy shirt that had belonged to Fenrir Greyback, no less!

Why should that attract his attention? It wasn't as if it was an especially comfortable shirt. It should be even less interesting than Merlin's nightgown.

But when he tried to move away again, something deep inside of him felt as if it were punched and crushed. As if a cruel hand were closing around his heart, making cold shivers run down his spine.

What the...?

Turning back to face the shirt, he made a split second decision and carefully took a hold of it.

Stroking his fingers over the material, he didn't notice anything special about it. It felt like a normal shirt, no special fabric, nothing.

So why did it fascinate him so?

He couldn't stop his fingers from closing around the cloth and cradling it to his chest. Unconsciously, he rubbed his cheek against it, feeling the light scratching of the coarse texture against his skin and closed his eyes in pure bliss.

And then, he could smell a calming scent emitting from it, reaching out to settle his agitated mind.

Instinctively, he buried his nose in the shirt. The scent filled his lungs, eased his injured body and for the moment he forgot the last days of terror.

All of a sudden, it didn't matter that strange things were happening, that his eyes were healed and that he felt a strange obsession with a shirt that belonged to a mass murderer.

Sleepiness overcame him. He felt tired and had the urge to go back to bed and lie down.

Yawning, he looked around.

The way to his bed seemed far too long in his sleep-fogged mind.

Spying a pile of blankets in a corner, his feet developed a mind of their own and made their way over to it.

It looked very appealing.

Laying down, he was asleep before his head even touched the material.

XXXXXXXXXXX

Stepping through a bush, Fenrir came to the border of a large opening in the middle of his territory when suddenly a shadow appeared next to him. Kneeling with one hand on the ground, the werewolf stated humbly, "My Alpha, you have returned."

Giving a sideways glance to the dominant currently in charge of protecting and scouting the area, Fenrir ordered, "Assemble the hunters. We have traitorous prey to slay."

And the dangerous glint in the Alpha's eyes told the dominant that he did not mean animal prey.

Returning his own wicked grin, he replied, "As you wish, my Alpha."

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**Cookie for us...?**


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N:** So well yes, here's another chapter and considering how long it's taken us these past few chapters to update this is actually quite fast for us...

Please don't be too angry with me if there are more typos and the like than usual but der-gestiefelte-kater gave this chapter to me this afternoon and told me "You know, I was up this morning at around 8 o'clock and creativity has struck so I added some detail to that chapter we wrote when we met last time to write chapter 9! Now take it, look it over and say yes to all of it and most important of all, PUBLISH IT by this evening!" So here I am now, alone, completely done for the day because I tried to do this as soon as possible and because of that I probably didn't see all of the mistakes...

And just so you know, this isn't supposed to turn into some sort of cliche story in which Fenrir and Harry suddenly fall head over heels in love with each other. Though it did take us 10 chapters to come to this point, something big's gonna happen (and like I said I don't mean anything cliche because der-gestiefelte-kater is gonna kill me if she sees me writing anything overly cliche)... in the next chapter I think... I'm not too sure... *looks at their notes* Is that scene actually really going to _finally _happen...? *stare* maybe...? *confused* argh! Where's the organised mind of the two of us when you need her? *completely helpless*

If you hadn't realised, I'm quite useless without her sitiing next to me while writing. She probably wouldn't even have allowed me to publish this pathetic author's note...

Anyway... why do I have this feeling that this is going to turn into some sort of large mega story with at least... I don't know... waaaaaaay too many chapters...?

**Disclaimer:** Still nothing ours...

**Warnings:** ... None, I think...? Well... the usual language warning for Fenrir but that's nothing new XD

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** Chapter 10  
**

Suddenly, somewhere inside of Grimmauld Place a door banged open and frantic footsteps could be heard.

"Albus! Albus! You have to come! Harry...! Harry... he's gone missing!" Mrs Weasley screamed hysterically.

Immediately, doors opened along the corridor and heads appeared in the door frames, all of them focusing on her.

"Harry?"

"Where is he?"

"What happened?"

"How do you know that?"

"He isn't in his bed and I can't find him anywhere!" The Weasley matriarch replied, worried out of her mind.

"I met him on the stairs a while ago." Ginny said.

"Why was he out of bed?" Hermione asked.

"Where did he want to go?"

"He didn't say."

"Good riddance."

"But Severus! You don't know what could have happened to him! He could have walked into a dark spell! Only Merlin knows what hides in this place!"

"Calm down, everyone!" Dumbledore ordered while looking at all of them with a serious expression in his eyes. Everyone cooled down at once. Then he turned to Mrs Weasley. "Molly, we do not know if he has truly disappeared. Before we assume anything let us search the premises in groups."

XXXXXXXXXXX

"My Alpha." Loarn said and stepped towards Fenrir offering him his outstretched forearm. "Welcome back."

Taking the offered limb in a tight grip, Fenrir returned the warm greeting.

"Good to be home again." He replied and squeezed his beta's shoulder with the other hand.

Then he let go and turned to the rest of the assembled hunters. Letting his gaze wander, he was met with respectful and expectant gazes.

Nodding in greeting, he sat down and they followed suit.

Laying down an old and rather battered looking newspaper in front of him, Loarn spoke first. "Interesting rumours have reached our ears." He tapped the paper with one of his sharp claws to emphasize his point, not noticing that he had pierced the disgruntled photo and barely missed the now angry looking Carrow. Its bold letters flashed its headline _The mysterious death of Amycus Carrow_ at a growling Fenrir, who mumbled something like "fucking bastard deserved to die" under his breath.

Then he straightened his back and raised an eyebrow while addressing his pack mates. "Rumours? I didn't know you cared for those, but I know what you heard." He paused and his expression turned evil. "You heard about death eaters disappearing, torn bodies and a very pissed Dark Lord! And you wonder..." He left the sentence unfinished and looked at them with his eyes full of malice.

"We wonder..." They exchanged a toothy grin full of underlying meaning.

"So it's true then?"

Fenrir nodded. "Yes. I absolutely refuse to wipe the bastard's arse any longer."

For a split second, the hunters were wide-eyed, then accepting nods could be seen among them.

"Why this change of heart all of a sudden? Is there a reason for this aside from the Dark Lord's breach of contract?" Jonna asked. Loarn's arm was draped over her shoulder and she leant into his side while one of her hands was stroking gently over her pregnant belly.

"That's only a minor reason. The fact that he did nothing about the Anti-Werewolf laws and that he sees us as his loyal mutts is nothing new to us."

He could almost hear the wheels turning in their heads. The frowns on their faces intensified while they kept speculating and pondering all the different scenarios which could have happened to lead to this decision.

"So, what's the real reason?"

Hesitating, Fenrir took time to consider his words. It was a rather selfish request. After all he would be endangering the whole pack if he was going through with his plan. There was also the possibility of them not wanting to participate.

"As you know I was summoned to one of his little tea parties."

He flashed them a grin and low chuckles could be heard.

"He told me and his merry band of pathetic subordinates of his _wonderful_ plan to attack a house." Fenrir said and made a dismissive motion with his hand.

Who cared for details anyway?

"Some friends of the Potter brat were supposed to live there with their families. And we just _had_ to pay a friendly visit..."

A knowing grin could be seen on all faces.

"It seemed to be just another boring job. You know, go there, kill everybody, make no captives...

"But"– he paused and everyone leant forward in silent anticipation –"what his high and mighty Lordship didn't know was that the Potter brat and some of Dumbledore's jolly circle of friends were already there. It was a rather nice surprise to have such a delicious welcome party.

"Sadly though they were too surprised to put up much of a fight. But at least we could separate the brat and a young, hormone driven female from the others." His grin widened even more, bordering on being maniac.

"Then I played a little game of hide and seek with them. And that's when the wind changed..."

He could almost smell him again. The taste of the lean form with the mop of dishevelled black hair and the fiery green eyes burned on his tongue and a small smile fought to form on his lips at the sweet memory.

Sharp intakes of breath could be heard and ripped him from the bliss while he realised only at the back of his mind that he really had been smiling.

"That's how I found him..." He stated dryly and cleared his throat.

Looking into their wide eyes, he was met with stunned silence. Then rustling could be heard and suddenly all hell broke lose. Everybody spoke at once whilst trying to be louder than the others. The youngsters were boxing each other lightly in an attempt to shut the other up so they could talk but instead it resulted in yelps of pain. Even the older wolves couldn't restrain themselves from voicing their surprise.

But as sudden as the tumult had arisen, it died down again, most likely because everybody wanted to know the details.

"Congrats...but where is he?" One of the youngsters asked excitedly. "Why isn't he here? I wanna meet him!"

"... he ran away..." Fenrir said defeated and sighed. Then he added. "...or he was kidnapped... or both..."

"Oh, why would he do that?" Another said, looking confused.

"Maybe he was scared?" The first youngster offered.

"... but ... what has that got to do with not siding with the Dark Lord?"

"Because his mate is the enemy, you fool." Kennan said and smacked the younger one on the head. Then he continued. "That's serious business, my Alpha. It could endanger the whole pack and such a decision can't be made hastily."

"No matter what, I have to find him."

"And the pack?"

"Either you're going to leave the war be or we're all gonna be standing alongside each other in battle."

"Can't we just abduct him and leave those stick waving wizards be?"

"And leave all the fun and the good fights?" Rae sneered, his battle scarred face contorted into an intimidating snarl.

"That's impossible. Both sides would be after us. He's Harry bloody Potter after all." Fenrir retorted. The cat was finally out of the bag and the reaction was accordingly.

"What the hell?"

"Harry Potter?"

"No way!"

"Are you sure?"

"I don't care! I'll follow you into the depth of hell no matter what!" Bjólfur roared and his dark voice easily overpowered the tumult.

"I never really liked the snake!"

"I want to meet him! I'll come with you!"

Fenrir looked at the youngster, irritated. Youths these days were just plain weird.

"If Bjólfur fights, then I'll fight, too." Morak stated calmly and many others followed his suit.

"So it's settled then. We will fight alongside each other as one pack until the moon withers and the earth is soaked!" Loarn shouted and the rest jumped to their feet and cheered.

"Until the moon withers!" They chorused and patted a smug looking Fenrir on the shoulder.

XXXXXXXXXXX

Opening his eyes slowly, Harry waited for them to adjust to the light. Then he noticed that he had been been tucked into bed again and was not in the laundry room any longer.

"Harry, my boy, you have caused some serious tumult there." Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling while he sipped on a cup of tea.

Confused, Harry looked up to see the headmaster sitting next to his bed in a comfy plush armchair.

Where had that thing come from?

"I was wondering why you were in the laundry room although I can understand why you would hide there. You would not be able to hear any loud arguing voices in there. And I must admit, it seemed rather cosy." Dumbledore sent a small smile his way before he became contemplative again and asked. "Though I must confess that you have my interest piqued. Why were you in there?"

Harry looked down, not knowing how to respond, and realised that he was still holding onto the shirt.

"Quite a fetching shirt you have there. In fact, you gripped it so tightly we were unable to remove it from your grasp."

Embarrassed, he tightened his hold on the piece of clothing.

"I see. Lemon drop?"

"No, thank you, professor."

"You know, my boy, you needn't worry. This place is perfectly safe. The Fidelius Charm cannot be fooled. Only the most trusted members know Grimmauld Place's location and it is impossible for an outsider to find or enter it."

"And what if someone gets tortured, Professor? Someone that knows about it?"

"We are still safe, Harry. Only the first secret keeper can divulge the secret to another person and I do not believe that this person will ever tell someone who is not trustworthy." Dumbledore said and looked at him over the rims of his glasses.

XXXXXXXXXXX

"Alpha, all preparations are done. We are ready to go. As always, Jonna will take care of things from here on." Loarn said, falling into step beside Fenrir who was checking the camp.

Then, after a short silence, he continued. "May I ask a question?"

Making a dismissive motion with his hand, Fenrir said. "Go ahead."

"I mean no disrespect, my Alpha, but how do you plan to track your mate? Do you have anything that belonged to him so we can use his scent?"

A large, knowing grin with a lot of pointy teeth and creepiness stretched over Fenrir's face and he said. "Don't worry. I have someone set on him."


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: ***looks up from behind her notes* I'm not a slave driver *muahahahah* No, I'm not! I'm only... kicking wofl1 every now and then into her lazy bum so that this story gets a new chapter because she's the one expressing most of our things in an acceptable English (though it isn't the mother tongue of neither one of us). My English is much much worse than hers and actually right now I'm telling her what I want to say and she's writing it down for me. XD**  
**

Anywaaaay, finally the next chapter! We were really fast this time! We needed about three days to write it down. We've waited for this moment for AGES! Some of you might remember but this story was first published about three f****** years ago! So to have finally come this far...!

Actually, we're waiting for the next chapter because that one's gonna be awesome! One of our key scenes is gonna be in there and it's been written for about 2 1/2 years!

Also, both of us really appreciate your reviews because that makes our day and we squeal for hours after having read them! Actually, if this story hadn't been taken down we would have over 220 reviews about now (yes, it's still a sore point with der-gestiefelte-kater)!

But der-gestiefelte-kater would also like to address a serious matter regarding constructive criticism in guest reviews:

If you find any spelling mistakes just keep in mind that we're doing this for fun and that English is not our mother tongue. Criticism can be done in a polite and nice way. If someone goes with a highlighter through our story and feels the urge to let us know about said spelling mistakes, please be so kind as to give us the whole sentence or we have no idea where that one might be because about right now we've written about 50,000 words and der-gestiefelte-kater spent hours looking for them just to realise that they weren't actually wrong to begin with. (yes, this pissed her off quite a lot and wofl1 needed a few days to calm her down again).

Since we've rambled enough now, we wish you a happy reading! XD

**Warning:** language... overall craziness... something very distantly related to something sexual...

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**Chapter 11**

"Fred! George! I'm gonna KILL you!" Ron screamed in a rage, already having jumped up from his seat on the comfortable couch and pursuing the snickering twins.

He had felt that something was off as soon as the toffee they had offered him hit his tongue and made his face itch all over. Immediately trying to spit it out, he had cursed as he realised it was too late. The toffee had already dissolved and thickened to some sort of sticky substance, sliding down his throat.

It was his own damned fault for being so stupid!

He had happily accepted the offered sweet and it had disappeared faster than anyone could say Quidditch, which wasn't all that surprising considering that his stomach was larger than his brain.

He should have known by now that anything offered to him by his brothers – especially if they didn't want anything in return – would most likely have drastic consequences.

Yanking the door open, he paused as a wave of nauseousness hit him. Not only his face was itching but now he felt a tingling sensation in his eyebrows and on his head. It was as if every last one of his tiny hairs was growing rapidly, joined by new ones sprouting everywhere. In addition, he felt his eyebrows thickening and soon parts of them started to hang so much that they obscured his eyes.

Gritting his teeth, he dashed into the dimly lit corridor, chasing after them. "You bastards! Come back here!"

Running at full speed, he nearly missed the abrupt turn of the corridor and crashed into the wall, barely able to brace himself.

Black spots danced across his vision when he suddenly felt a strange sensation in his chest. Looking down, he watched in terror as two THINGS sprouted from his chest.

Circe's tits! Where once a manly chest had been, he now sported two very female, but hanging, breasts.

For a moment he was too weirded out to react, but as soon as the twins' hysteric laughter registered in his mind, he snapped.

Roaring, he charged after them with renewed vigour.

"Oh my fair maiden!" Snickering. "Your beauty makes even the stars look pale in comparison!"

He would make them pay for doing this to him! He was a man, damn it! Not some ugly hag with disgusting, old and wrinkly breasts, hanging down to his navel! Just thinking about them made his skin crawl and his stomach turn. He didn't even feel the slightest need to touch them!

If they had been young, firm and taut, then it would have been a different matter – he did like them like that, every boy his age liked them! – but because they were old, wrinkly and wobbling with every step he took, he was disgusted even THINKING of them as a temporary part of him.

"Ronnikins, you're such a hottie!"

Oh god! What if they weren't just temporary?

A flash of his life as a revolting wench somewhere between masculinity and feminity – because he hadn't felt his most important bit shrivelling back up into his body – ran across his mind and he almost faltered in his pursuit. He didn't want to live looking like this! He was a sexy young man in the prime of his youth! He still had to push his broom through masses of Quidditch goal loops!

Determined not to let his life end like this, he redoubled his efforts to catch the twins. If this was not reversible, he would do more than just simply kill his brothers! He would somehow make their remaining lives a living hell!

There! He could see one of them standing still in the middle of the hallway! If they thought they had beaten him just because they had split up they were sorely mistaken! First, he would take care of George, and then, as soon as he was done with him, he would take up his revenge again and look for the other missing twin. They would NOT get away!

Jumping at George, he was startled when he suddenly tripped and fell face first to the floor, sliding a few feet because of his high speed. Grimacing in distaste at the strange and uncomfortable feeling of his breasts scraping over the old floor boards, the air was knocked out of him.

His nipples were almost driving him insane, because apparently they were sensitive as hell, even though they were all wrinkly.

Merlin's balls! That hurt like a bitch!

Was it possible to rip off your own nipples while sliding over the floor?

Gritting his teeth in pain, he swallowed the lump constricting his throat.

He was a man, for Merlin's sake!

He would not show any weakness!

Furiously blinking, he lifted his face and was met with the feet of George. Turning his head to view what had tripped him, he saw a rather smug looking Fred standing a few feet away whose foot was still stretched out.

Bastards, they had done that on purpose!

Growling angrily, Ron was about to voice his sentiments when a hand suddenly closed over his mouth and prevented him from talking. George's face appeared in his line of vision, mouthing him to keep quiet.

What the hell?

Beginning to struggle, he was in the process of tackling George when he felt himself being held down by Fred.

"Shhh." Fred whispered into his ear and sat down on top of him without further ado.

A muffled groan escaped Ron's lips as the sensitive tips of his breasts were being scratched by the rough shirt and were pushed into the hard wooden floor even more.

How could one be so unlucky? He wondered silently.

"There's an Order meeting in there." George whispered from his spot, nodding towards the door.

Getting George's line of thoughts immediately, Fred rummaged through the pocket of his jeans for a pair of Extendable Ears and handed one side of them to his twin.

Ron's eyes narrowed in irritation.

The nerve of them!

Planting his elbow into a strategically well chosen place, he heard Fred cursing and after a few moments, a pair of Extendable Ears was handed to him, too.

Snorting to himself, he joined the eavesdropping.

"Can we really believe that information?" They heard Mad-Eye Moody ask. "I don't trust that little rat."

"We have to at least keep it in mind and don't dismiss it completely. After all we did receive some information that Greyback is not completely sane any longer." Their father said, and added, as though an afterthought. "Though it is debatable how sane he has been before."

"Still, to trust Mundungus of all people?" Bill questioned.

"Yes, and to trust information gotten from the scum that's hiding in Knockturn Alley?" Mad-Eye said.

"I can understand both of your views but I do believe that if Knockturn Alley's rumour has it that Greyback has finally lost it that there is at least some kind of truth to it." Tonks reasoned.

"That would at least explain why he has turned on his allies. There are quite a few kills that can put on his slate." Shacklebolt said.

"A few? What is the meaning of this, Kingsley? I thought we were talking about two deaths?" McGonagall said. "I believe we can all imagine that it isn't uncommon to be a bit rougher in the circle of the Death Eaters. And we all know that Greyback's interpretation of 'to be a bit rougher' differs from the rest."

Ron could almost picture the stern look on her face.

"Ah, of course. I can see where you're coming from, Minerva, but about now there are more dead Death Eaters that clearly bear the marks of Greyback." Shacklebolt stated.

"What?! Why don't we know anything about that?"

"That's because Malfoy's doing all to keep it hush hush." Shacklebolt explained. "He – or more likely, he-who-must-not-be-named – does not want the public to know it was one of his most loyal and vicious followers."

Mr. Weasley said. "If it became common knowledge that it was one of the Death Eaters of he-who-must-not-be-named, it would undermine his power and he can't have that."

Obviously, Shacklebolt must have nodded because he said. "I've just come across this bit of information but apparently there are at least 5 more dead Death Eaters so Malfoy has to do some sort of damage control. But of course, he's not doing it very overtly – that would not be his way of doing things – but very subtly, which is also the reason why it took me a while to get to the bottom of it."

"But wouldn't it be better if they just said that Greyback betrayed them?" Their mother asked.

"No, because then the public would start wondering about the why. " Their father said.

"And the public – at least some – would be able to come up with possible fights and friction." McGonagall caught on.

"So what? They're actually fighting amongst themselves? Somehow I don't think he-who-must-not-be-named would put up with that. He'd just kill anybody and everybody who's a pain in the arse." Tonks interjected.

"What if..." Charlie started to wonder. "What if he-who-must-no-be-named punished Greyback because he lost Harry. And now Greyback is on some sort of personal vendetta against those unfortunate ones that cross his path?"

"But to kill his own allies?" McGonagall asked. "That is so barbaric!"

"He's like a damned animal. Of course the bastard is barbaric. I don't have a problem if the damned Death Eaters kill each other off without our help. That means less work for us." Moody growled.

That was it. Ron had heard enough. He had to go and tell Harry and Hermione.

Bucking off Fred who had still been sitting on top of him, the youngest Weasley boy ran down the corridor towards the stair that would lead him to Harry's room.

Amused, Fred and George watched their little brother run away to find Harry. Both of them wondered if he knew that the effects of the toffee hadn't worn off yet.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX X

Poking around in his porridge, Harry held up his spoon and looked listlessly at the grey substance. Then he tilted the eating utensil and observed how the thick liquid fell back down into the porridge with a dull squelching noise.

He wasn't really that hungry. The porridge didn't really look that appealing anyway.

"Mornin'." Ginny said after she had suddenly appeared in the kitchen entrance. Out of the corner of his eyes he noted that she lazily strolled over to the kitchen counter to prepare some cereal, his eyes still focused on his food. Then she came back to the kitchen table, plopped down into the chair opposite of Harry and sighed sleepily.

This close, he noticed her dishevelled hair and the bags under her eyes. He smiled slightly and replied a good-natured "Good morning" before he returned to his own food.

For some reason the porridge looked worse the longer he stared at it. It seemed some of its liquids were settling on top while the slobbery parts were gathering at the bottom, giving it a slimy, greyish tinge.

"Is this from today?" Ginny asked, munching on her cereal, and ripped him from his musings. Following her pointing finger with his gaze, his eyes came to rest on the _Daily Prophet_ that was lying on the table.

After a quick nod of his head she grabbed the paper, opened it and started to read, leaving Harry to his own thoughts once again.

Returning his gaze back to his slimy porridge, Harry suddenly wished for steak. Or anything that was remotely meaty and didn't look like someone had vomited into a bowl. Even one of those steaks Greyback had cooked – or rather burned – for him would be nice and if he was lucky something like that was somewhere in this very house. All he would have to do was ask Kreacher. Because in hindsight, those steaks really hadn't been that bad after all... Though maybe that was just his hunger speaking and he would eat about anything as long as it contained some sort of meat.

"This is a load of utter crap! The Prophet has outdone itself again! Don't you think?" Ginny exclaimed. She pointed to the headline on the front page and raised a questioning eyebrow at him.

"Huh?" He asked intelligently.

She made a face. "The Prophet – did you read it?"

"No. They only write what they want so it's not worth it."

"You really should this time. Listen: _'It is rumoured that the famous Harry Potter, commonly known as the-boy-who-lived, has gone missing and that a search party, specifically assorted for this incident, has started its desperate...'_" Her monotonous voice blabbered on, reciting the newspaper.

To be honest, he couldn't care less what the Prophet had to say this time.

Stifling a yawn, he tried to focus on her voice but his mind kept wandering back to the steak. It would be just wonderful to have one about right now.

He noticed only in passing how she lowered the Prophet.

"Harry! You aren't listening!" Ginny exclaimed indignantly.

"Sorry, what did you say?" Why was it so hard to focus today?

She rolled her brown eyes dramatically and said. "Just the Prophet making hot assumptions about your whereabouts." Her attempt at teasing failed miserably. When she continued, she wasn't able to conceal her concern. "Why do you keep spacing out? Is there some sort of big tragedy I've missed?"

"No..." He mumbled not meeting her eyes. Instead he started to balance the spoon between his fingers and continued to stare into his bowl of porridge.

He didn't really feel like talking, either.

The spoon slipped from his fingers and landed with a loud splashing noise in the bowl's content, causing ripples on its ugly, watery surface and disturbing the awkward silence.

Receiving a disbelieving look from her, he saw her opening her mouth but before she could say anything, the door opened and Mrs Weasley bustled into the room, shortly followed by Hermione. They were about to make breakfast when Mrs Weasley noticed the pot of porridge on the stove.

"What's this supposed to be?" She wanted to know after lifting the lid and looking into the pot.

"Not steak..." Harry mumbled under his breath and thought he had spoken too quietly for her to hear but apparently she had caught it because she asked. "Do you want some bacon, dear?"

Harry looked up sharply, his delighted eyes shining with hope and he nodded eagerly.

"Yes, please." He said reverently, receiving a strange look from both Ginny and Hermione before they exchanged a glance.

Humming to herself, Mrs Weasley started to make breakfast by pulling out pots and pans and putting them on the stove.

Slowly the rest of the house occupants started to fill the room and every single one of them walked over to the kitchen cupboards, grabbed some cutlery or other and set the table.

"Ginny, are you ready to go to Diagon Alley after breakfast?" Mr. Weasley asked after he had sat down at the table, ready for the food.

Rolling her eyes and shaking her head, Ginny hurriedly left the room.

"Huh, I guess that means no." He said and reached for the abandoned paper. Meanwhile, Mrs Weasley loaded the table with toast, bacon, beans, eggs, jam and more.

"Girls. They always block the bathrooms for about a thousand years." Ron said and started to fill his plate, only to get an elbow into his side from an indignant Hermione.

Chuckling at their behaviour, Harry grabbed the bacon, its delicious scent penetrating his nose and making his mouth water. He heaped a huge pile of meat on his plate and absent-mindedly enquired. "You're going to Diagon Alley?"

"Oh yes, dear. Your letters have arrived this morning." Mrs Weasley said over her shoulder, still occupied with her cooking.

"And we need to..."

"...stock up on our supplies." The twins said, grinning at each other mischievously.

"Oh no, you will **not**!" Mrs Weasley shouted and spun around to point her ladle at them that was dripping with red tomato sauce. "Not as long as you live under this roof!"

Watching the exchange with an amused gaze, Harry stuffed his mouth with bacon and revelled in the meaty taste that exploded on his taste gums.

"Having strange cravings, Harry?" Tonks joked from across the table, ignoring the typical Weasley chaos. Confused, the-boy-who-lived stopped his fork in mid-air and looked down at his plate. Realising that he had hogged most of the bacon, he grinned apologetically at her.

"I guess..." He answered and scratched the back of his head. Then he stuffed the food into his mouth for good measure.

"So... Diagon Alley...?" He asked hopefully after swallowing his mouthful. His eyes turned from Tonks to the Weasleys and he took another bite. "Can I come?"

"No Potter." Mad-Eye Moody answered immediately, having just entered the kitchen. "Too dangerous. Constant vigilance."

Gritting his teeth, he asked. "Then why can Ron and Hermione go? They're almost as much of a target as I am."

"It's already settled."

"But I have to get my stuff, too!" He argued, looking from one adult to the next.

"Oh Harry dear, we'll get your things for you." Mrs Weasley intervened. "And if you want anything besides the things for school, then just write them down and give the list to Ronald."

"But-"

"Now now, no reason to be so hot-headed." Mr. Weasley said and looked over the top of the newspaper at the others before fixing his gaze on Harry and putting the Prophet down. "By the way, Harry, don't you miss something?"

Confused, Harry focused his attention on Mr. Weasley.

He had no idea what the older man was talking about.

"Your wand, Harry, your wand." Mr. Weasley said and reached into his jacket to pull it out of the coat's folds and to hand Harry his wand.

Surprised, Harry enclosed the piece of wood with his hand almost lovingly and stored it back in the pocket of his jeans. "Thank you, Mr. Weasley."

How he had missed the absence of his wand was beyond him. He was a wizard for Merlin's sake! He was dependent on it! Without it he was nothing! So why hadn't he realised it sooner?

Not that it would've done him any good against Greyback. He was no fool, he had realised that his spells had done as good as nothing against the large werewolf.

Now that he thought about it, maybe he should've summoned a solid and long branch and slammed it over Greyback's head during their brief fight in the fields...

If he had been lucky that would have been more effective than any curse he could have come up with.

"We found it in the fields." The Weasley patriarch added as way of explanation.

Harry frowned. He clearly recognised Mr. Weasley's diversion attempt for what it was. As they had said, it had already been decided beforehand. He felt utterly disregarded and although it was for his own safety, as they always claimed, he was so frustrated that he was now, more than ever, treated like a precious wax doll.

And of course that also meant that trying to argue any further was pointless.

"I'm in my room." He said, clenching his hand to a fist, and left the kitchen.

Moving up the stairs and into his room, Harry cursed under his breath. He knew he was being childish but right now he couldn't care less. Why did everyone feel the need to control his life? He was his own person and he wasn't stupid! He knew that right now he didn't stand a chance against Greyback and while he would face him again if it meant saving a friend, he would, for once, try to get away as fast as possible. And if he was powerless against the werewolf then how was he supposed to defeat Voldemort? Did they honestly think he **wanted** this kind of life? With two maniacs out of their minds after him? The only thing he ever wanted was to have a normal life!

Sighing, he let himself fall onto his bed.

He would just be doing his exciting summer assignments while the rest of his friends would be having fun. What a nice teenage life...

Frustrated, Harry reached for the Defence Against the Dark Arts book.

Just when he was about to grab it, blood started to rush in his ears, drowning out the faint noises from downstairs. He couldn't hear a thing. Not the sound of the creaking stairs, Kreacher's mumblings, the closing of doors somewhere in the house or the insults from Mrs Black's portrait. Neither the occasional car driving by nor the permanent background noise of someone moving around and speaking which seemed to be part of the house ever since it had been declared as headquarters.

Bolting upright in his bed, his eyes opened wide, he shifted his weight and waited for the familiar creaking noise of his old four-poster bed.

Nothing.

He hadn't even heard the rustling of his blankets, pillows or mattress.

Panicking, he touched his ears. What was happening? Why couldn't he hear a thing? Had he injured his eardrums at some point?

"TRAITOR! You defile the honour of the most noble and ancient house of Black!"

"Shut up, you cunt!"

"RONALD WEASLEY! Watch your mouth!"

Harry clutched his throbbing head in pain while his eyes closed on their own and his face distorted into a grimace. Leaning his head on his knees, he covered his head with one of his pillows and a silent cry escaped his lips.

It hurt! He felt as if a sledgehammer had hit him right in the head, causing it to spin like mad while pain was coursing through his brain!

Cautiously peeking his eyes open in hopes of getting rid of the dizziness, he was shocked when his vision blurred, making him feel nauseous. Bile was rising in his throat and he knew he was about to vomit when his eyes failed him completely. For a moment he couldn't see anything at all.

What was happening to him?

Rubbing at his eyes, he looked around frantically but nothing changed.

What was the meaning of this? What was going on?

Clenching his eyes shut tightly, his frenzied heartbeat thundered in his ears. A distressed whine escaped him and if he hadn't been so distracted he might have been surprised at how animalistic it had sounded.

Suddenly his hearing came rushing back to him. Faint voices could be heard downstairs. Someone was moving around in the kitchen. A key was dropped on the floor. Curses. Someone was running around.

Was he supposed to hear all of that?

Carefully he opened his eyes and his bedroom came into focus. Squinting his eyes close again, he winced at the sudden sharpness and intensity of the room.

Taking a few breaths, he tried to calm himself. Had he just imagined that his eyes had become even better than before? Opening them again, the room was surprisingly normal.

What the HELL was going on? That conversation just now had been as loud as if somebody had screamed right into his ears! And why had it been possible for him to catch all of those noises?

And then that freaky vision problem of his of just now. What had been up with that?

And downstairs in the kitchen during breakfast that meat craving had been really strange.

And the day before, after encountering his deformed friend... he blushed furiously and could barely suppress a mortified groan... when he had run into Charlie …

He hid his face in the pillow, embarrassed.

_He had run into a muscular human brick wall and stumbled. In a moment of déjà vu a mop of red hair flashed in front of his eyes and strong arms tried to steady him but before Charlie could be of any help he tripped over Harry's foot. Twisting their bodies in mid-air, the redhead cushioned their fall and Harry landed unceremoniously on top of him. _

_All air was knocked out of him, forcing him to take large gasps. _

_Underneath him, Charlie grunted. _

"_Sorry..." Harry mumbled into the redhead's strong neck. He smelled of wild and open fire, burned wood and the faint aroma of freshly ground coffee. _

_Muscles shifted beneath him into a more comfortable position. _

"_No problem. My fault." Charlie said and his words resonated in Harry's chest. Moving to sit up, Harry paused when suddenly an unfamiliar smell rose to his nose. Confusion marred his face and he cocked his head to the side in curiosity. Leaning in again, Harry sniffed along the other's throat. Strangely enough the unfamiliar smell spiked at that._

_Hit by mortification he flushed a bright red, scrambled off of Charlie hastily, and fled as fast as his shaky legs could carry him to his room._

Why had Charlie smelled like THAT? Was he interested in him?

Shaking his head, Harry tried to get rid of the lingering thoughts. And why had HE reacted like that?

He wasn't even gay for god's sake!

And how could he even be able to smell something like that? Was that even humanly possible? And even weirder was that he had known instinctively what that smell had been.

Groaning, he let himself fall back onto the mattress, hugged the pillow to his chest and stared at the white ceiling, lost.

Arousal.

Groaning again, he rolled onto his stomach and buried his face in the crook of his arm.

Seriously?!

Could his life get any weirder?

First, a strange obsession with a shirt that was still not thrown away.

Second, the fact that he could suddenly see without his glasses. And just now it had become even better than ever before!

Third, craving all sorts of meat, no matter how bad they had been prepared. He snorted to himself at that one.

Forth, that hearing problem that made the noises of the house almost too loud.

Fifth, apparently a guy – namely Charlie – found him sexy...!?

And finally, he had strange instincts telling him all kinds of things he didn't really want to know and hadn't been aware of before. For example, CHARLIE finding him SEXY...?!

When had his life turned upside down and become like this?

His holidays had been as normal as they could have been up until the fight in the fields.

He startled. Now that he thought about it, everything had gone downhill from the moment Greyback had charged at him and had bitten him at the junction of his neck.

He paused. Sitting back up, he moved into the bathroom and stood in front of the mirror. Wide eyed, he stared at his reflection. His eyes were unusually green in his pale face but maybe it was just his imagination.

Shaking his head, he gingerly pulled away the collar of his shirt to look at the wound. With his breath held, he probed at the scar left behind by the injury.

Could it be...? No, it was not possible. It hadn't been a full moon.

But it had scarred really fast. Abnormally so.

Abruptly, his heart beat pounded like crazy. Pulling the collar of his shirt back up forcefully, he hurriedly left the bathroom and came to a halt in his bedroom.

Distressed, he took in lungfuls of air and stared at the rumbled bed, unfocused.

But what if...?

He ruffled his hair, making it an even bigger mess than it had been before.

What if it was true...?

What if there was a possibility that he could be...? Or was it possible that he was already...?

Maybe he should go to the library and see if there was even the slightest chance...

Hell, he sounded a lot like Hermione...

XXXXXXXXXXX

"Is everyone here?" Mrs Weasley asked and looked around for all the children. After she had made sure that everyone was there and hadn't landed somewhere else – distantly she remembered Harry's first floo travel – she shooed them out of the Leaky Cauldron and to the entrance to Diagon Alley.

"So what do we need besides the things for school?" The Weasley matriarch asked.

"Rights and judicial loopholes for the modern magical creature by Mr. Eugene White. Flourish and Blotts." Hermione piped up.

"Owl treats." Ginny added, looking knowingly at Hermione.

"Sweets." Ron interjected, oblivious to it all.

"Potion's ingredients..."

"...lots of potion's ingredients."

Mrs Weasley glared at her twin sons. "I swear, Frederic and George, if you use those on any of your siblings again you will not be happy in the near future." She threatened.

"We swear, Mother..."

"... we won't." The twins answered and grinned at each other.

Suspiciously, their mother regarded them a moment longer. Nodding to herself as if coming to an internal decision she let it slide and asked. "You still haven't told me what you are going to do in the future. Are you sure you don't want to go back to school for your N.E.W.T.s? I'm sure Professor Dumbledore wouldn't mind letting you return."

"We are sure, Mother..."

"... we are not..."

"... the scholarly type..."

"... as we've told you..."

"... countless times before."

They looked at each other and their grins became even larger, if that was possible, and they said. "As for our future..."

"... we plan..."

"... to open...

"... a successful business..."

"... endeavour and we already have..."

"... a silent partner..."

Looking at them doubtfully – her sons were only 18, after all – Mrs Weasley turned to the rest and said.

"Ok, let's go children. Fred and George will do their own shopping while we will do the school shoppings. After that we can split up. Let's meet up in the Leaky Cauldron again at lunch."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX X

"Do we have everything now?" Mrs Weasley asked, leaving Flourish and Blotts, carrying lots of bags.

"Harry still needs a new broom kit." Ron said.

Shortly before they had left Grimmauld Place the redhead had gone to his best friend to see if he needed anything from Diagon Alley. And indeed, he had received a short list.

He was a bit concerned because Harry had seemed out of breath and his hair had seemed even messier than usual. But upon asking if everything was okay, his friend had replied that everything was alright. Of course, he hadn't really believed him, but he hadn't really wanted to pester him any further. He could very well imagine that his friend was pissed. He would probably feel the same if their roles were reversed.

"Anything else?" Mrs Weasley asked.

"Owl treats for Pig and Hedwig." Ginny said and then looked at the other girl. "And I'm sure Hermione could get something for Crookshanks."

Hermione nodded and said. "I need a new collar for him."

"Okay then let's go to Broomstix first and then to the Magical Menagerie." Mrs Weasley said and turned into the direction of the first shop. She started to make her way surprisingly agilely through the masses of bustling witches and wizards. Hurrying after her, they had problems keeping up with her fast pace so that they bumped into someone every now and then.

Momentarily losing her out of their sight, they felt relieved when they spotted her talking with Seamus Finnigan's mother in front of Broomstix. They rushed over to them and stopped next to their school mate who instantly fell into ramblings about his stay in Italy and his encounter with local pyromaniacs.

Torn between listening to the animated tale and getting the broom kit for his best friend, Ron hesitated for a moment, but then made a mad dash into the store to get the kit so that he would miss as little as possible of the story.

Only seconds later, Ron came back with it, grinning from ear to ear, and was about to join in again when Mrs Weasley noticed the purchase and hurried them along.

Defeated, Ron grumbled under his breath as he saw the twins coming out of the apothecary. He turned his attention to his mother and asked. "Why can't you just force them to tell you what they're going to do?"

"I am their mother, Ronald, not their keeper." Mrs Weasley answered.

"But I really want to know." He said.

Exasperated, Mrs Weasley said. "Even if I tried to, they probably wouldn't tell me the truth. You know how they are."

"But-"

"Get a grip, Ron!" Ginny growled. "Stop being such a whiny child."

"I didn't ask **you**, Gin."

Ginny was about to retort something but Mrs Weasley said. "Stop it, you two."

Glaring at each other for a moment longer, they dropped the conversation and turned their attention back to their surroundings, not noticing the dark alley they passed.

They didn't need long to reach the Magical Menagerie and after a short while the girls were done with their shopping. On their way back to the Leaky Cauldron Ron was just complaining about the lack of food when he noticed someone standing in the shadows.

"What a weirdo." Ron mumbled to himself.

"Who are you talking about?" Ginny asked her brother.

"Don't you see him? That guy over there." He said and pointed to a man who was standing in a dark side road, facing a wall.

"It's rude to point at people!" Hermione admonished.

"But Hermione! Just look at that guy!"

"Maybe he's not feeling well." Hermione argued. "No reason to stare just because of it. Or would you like people watching you when you're feeling ill?"

"Well, I guess you're right." Ron admitted a bit reluctantly.

"Then let's get going or Mum is going to throw a fit if we don't hurry up." Ginny said.

"Yeah, I'd like to get back to Harry. He didn't seem all that happy." Ron said and left the previous conversation behind.

"Oh? Why's that?" Ginny wanted to know.

"He wanted to come but wasn't allowed to. What do you expect, Ginny? That he's happy that he's the only one left behind at Grimmauld Place?" Ron explained.

"When have you gotten so sensitive all of a sudden?" Hermione asked curiously.

"Hey! Just because I tend to be thick doesn't mean I'm completely ignorant to my best friend's feelings!"

Hermione smiled at him and said. "I'm so proud of you."

Ron's face flushed and he mumbled. "Well, it's just that I'd be pretty pissed if I'd be him and were the only one back there."

Uncomfortable, Ron picked up his speed and followed his mother who was already far ahead. A few feet behind, a pleased Hermione and an amused Ginny strolled after him.

None of them noticed the human shaped shadow subtly following them. Neither did they notice the creepy grin that spread on its features nor did they hear the silent "found you" that formed on its lips.

"Still, I'm glad that Harry's not with us." Ginny said, her gaze still on her retreating brother's back. "It's a lot safer for him at Grimmauld Place."

"I agree, but you have to look at it out of Harry's point of view." Hermione said. "He sees us, allowed to do almost everything we want while he has to stay at home. You know that all he ever wanted was to lead a normal life, and that is taken from him. Not only because of you-know-who and now Greyback, but also because now the Order takes even the smallest bit of normalcy by forbidding him from going to Diagon Alley."

"I think I can understand that."

"Not to be rude, but I don't think you can, neither one of us can, because we're not 'The-boy-who-lived'."

"That may be true, but I still feel better with him at Grimmauld Place. And even though I know that he's completely safe there, I still feel worried."

"You know you don't need to. There are countless curses and spells on the place to incapacitate intruders but they would only need to work if the enemy knew a way to bypass the Fidelius Charm that is placed on Grimmauld Place and everybody knows there's no way."

* * *

**Please don't kill us!  
**


	12. Chapter 12

**Discalimer: **Still nothing ours! **  
**

**Warning:** a bit of an emotional breakdown... maybe...

**A/N:** Yo! We've done it again! Here's another chapter! I think we're kind of on a roll right now...

In this chapter, there's the important scene I promised you about two chapters ago... Wanna guess which it is? ;)

Anyway, I've only slept about three hours this night so please excuse me if there are more mistakes than usual. I've listened to birds sing most of the night... (birds... are nocturnal...? Please just ignore me...)

We should warn you for this chapter, before, we've always tried to write a scene out of a certain P.O.V but somehow, that wasn't possible for this chapter so it's more or less omniscient with some very short P.O.V.s that aren't indicated with our typical X lines.

THANK YOU FOR READING AND IF YOU DO, REVIEWING!

_ IMPORTANT NOTICE: _ We might take a while to update again because first, der-gestiefelte-kater is going to be on holiday from tomorrow on and as soon as she returns I (wofl1) am going back to Great Britan to do a masters course over there so this chapter might be a bit rushed but we wanted to get it done before her holiday. Most of this was actually done last weekend (yes, we met up again... and while most normal people would usually go out with their best friend, we tend to write chapters... then again... did we ever claim to be normal...?). And if you wonder why I won't write the next chapter on my own (and later on give it to her to accept it or completely destroy it), it's because we've almost used up most of our planned plot so it might take us a while to come up with a new chapter. We haven't outlined more of the story because we never thought we would actually come this far. I mean honestly, I thought we would die on the 5th chapter or something like that...

Await the next chapter with baited breath! FEAR NOT! It will be there... We just don't know when exactly it will be done! Der-gestiefelte-kater will try to come up with some more plot on the beach while I will do the most youthful task of revising the old chapters! And then I will give them to her and wait for her to accept or make edits herself so we're done with the first chapter and are currently working on the second and third.

Now read on, oh most faithful of readers! (Ok, if you think I'm pulling a gai-sensei here... then you're right! I blame it on my sleep deprivation... And if you must now... der-gestiefelte-kater did text me her permission to write these ramblings...)

* * *

Chapter 12

Closing the door with a barely audible click, Hermione took in the quiet and dusty atmosphere and the familiar odour of old parchment and dried ink. Dozens of books were stashed in the shelves that were lining the walls from the floor to the high ceiling. The soft light of the fireplace flickered over millions of book spines, scarcely illuminating their titles.

Heading for the comfy plush chairs in front of the fire, she came to an abrupt halt at the sight of a familiar mop of black hair occupying one of the seats. Smiling to herself at seeing her friend like that – he had been under a lot of stress lately – she made her way to the chair across from him and sat down quietly.

With one last look at him, she popped her newly purchased book open and began to read _Rights and judicial loopholes for the modern magical creature_ enthusiastically.

After all, you could never know enough.

She had just finished the first paragraph when Harry started to stir and slowly opened his eyes. Yawning he stretched sleepily and the book that had rested on his lap fell to the ground with a quiet thud.

Hermione laid down her own book on the side table and helpfully reached out to pick up Harry's. Frowning at the unexpected title, Hermione turned to Harry and lifted an eyebrow in question.

"Myths and legends about the man-wolf compiled by Sherwood Arbuthnot?" She read and gazed at him inquisitively but he was looking everywhere but at her.

"May I ask you something, Harry?" The girl enquired carefully, her voice deliberately even. She observed him closely and looked out for some sort of reaction on his part.

He was staring down at his feet intently, fidgeting every now and then while his fingers dug into the upholstery of the seat. His entire body was tense and it was screaming at her that he was feeling uncomfortable. Although he seemed to want to be rather somewhere else, he nodded his head yes. For a fleeting moment, his eyes had shifted to hers uncertainly before they settled on something else entirely.

"Are you looking at this because of that bite wound of yours?" She asked in a quite voice, but he must have heard her perfectly because instantly his head snapped up, his eyes wide. Then, he looked away again and cleared his throat in discomfort. She could almost see the wheels turning in his head.

"Maybe...somehow..." He stammered, uncertain, while twisting his hands nervously.

Grasping one of them Hermione squeezed his hand, keeping him from his nervous antics without difficulty.

Shyly, he turned his head to meet her gaze. As soon as their eyes locked, she smiled at him reassuringly.

"I know it shouldn't be... it's probably not possible anyway... but..." He looked at her, hesitant. "I've read some books... and there was this one paragraph... it wasn't explicitly said but... Listen."

Letting his hand go, Hermione straightened whilst Harry reached for the book in her hand and opened it, flipping it to the bookmarked side.

"... the produced exudation of the subject contaminated with lycanthropy whose humanity has almost completely succumbed to the nucleus of evil, is also highly infectious in case of a none full moon. A retardation in the occurrence of the symptomatology in newly infected individuals is to be expected given that the nucleus requires longer to attach itself to the new host body..." **1**

Facing her, he made a grimace and Hermione had to hide a smile. She had noticed how he had stumbled over a few of the more complicated words and couldn't suppress her amusement completely.

Both of her boys – especially Ron – and big words! They would probably never mix very well.

Then she frowned, thinking about what she had just heard.

In the paragraph, there were indeed several indicators that fit Harry's condition, but honestly! Nucleus of evil? There was a reason that that book had been outdated a long time ago!

Harry looked at her expectantly.

"Well... you shouldn't rely on just one source. And you know, this book has received a lot of criticism for its views. Most of its discussion couldn't be proven in any way, for example in that book the author is also talking about werewolf lords, which would imply that there is some sort of royal hierarchy besides the usual pack rankings. Considering the time in which the author has lived, this would also mean that the so-called 'werewolf lord' gives bouts of his lands to lower pack alphas as a fief."

Seeing the confused look on his face, she explained. "Basically, it means he loans it to them in exchange for their loyalty, like it was done in feudalism." **2**

Giving him a pointed look, she continued. "Can you honestly imagine werewolves doing that? I don't want to be rude in any way – just look at Remus, he's nothing like the rest – but as far as I know they aren't the most rational of beings."

"So you don't think it's possible?" Harry asked, sounding almost hopeful.

"To be honest, Harry, I don't know." She replied, sighing and it was obvious she was a bit disappointed at her own lack of knowledge.

"This book does make a few good points but there are so many other sources that speak against this one so that it's almost impossible to believe it. Don't get me wrong, I've noticed that you've changed ever since you were bitten, but I don't know if this book is the right one to look into for an explanation in your case. If you really think you have some kind of werewolf illness, then you should look at another book. I already have one in mind. Wait a moment, I'll get it for you."

She stood up and went over to one of the shelves, walking up and down in front of it while looking for the mentioned book. Pulling out various volumes, she shook her head at herself and put them back where they belonged.

"I really recommend it if you're seriously interested in this kind of stuff. Ah here it is." She exclaimed when she finally found it.

Turning around to face Harry, she added with a mischievous grin. "And if you really think that you are a werewolf, we can always try silver on you."

"What...?" Disbelief washed over him at her comment and he watched her pulling out the book she had mentioned. "It's not written horribly and there are some aspects in it that aren't historically correct, but otherwise it gives quite a good overview."

Returning to him, she presented it to him and said. "Here you are."

Harry studied it for a moment. It was a small and worn journal. Cautiously, he took it from her and she sat down in her chair again.

Could there really be that much information in such a small book? Harry wondered and frowned.

She must have seen his scepticism because she said. "I know it's small but you shouldn't judge a book by its cover."

Taking her word for it – this was Hermione, after all, and she knew her way around books – he popped it open and browsed through its contents.

"It's actually one of the best you can find on the topic since it's written by a werewolf himself."

Surprised, he looked up to meet her eyes which were twinkling in amusement.

How much did she know...?

Mentally face palming, he berated himself.

Of course she would grow suspicious! This was Hermione, after all! She had probably already come up with around a thousand theories about what was wrong with him and most likely had already researched most of them quite thoroughly. Plus it wouldn't surprise him if she had read everything that was even remotely topic-related, available and halfway decent.

She had probably bought at least one or two books in Diagon Alley, too.

And indeed, when he looked at the cover of the book laying on the table next to her, he found a new looking book, which confirmed his suspicions.

For a moment, Harry didn't know what to say.

What did you say to your friend in a situation like this, anyway?

She interrupted his musings, her eyes not meeting his, by saying.

"I do have my suspicions about you being a werewolf, but – and this is a large but – considering that this is not scientifically proven – I have yet to find an reliable source saying anything about this possibility – we cannot leave out other possibilities."

She sighed tiredly, running a hand down her face in exhaustion.

His heart missed a beat and he looked at her with wide eyes.

Hermione had a soft air around her and she smiled at him slightly. "I'll always stay by you."

Gulping, he felt a strange mix of dread and relief wash over him.

A silent "Thank you" fell from his lips. Not able to face her gentle expression any longer, he stared at the pages in front of him instead, not really seeing anything that was written on them.

She had known all along and hadn't pestered him, hadn't tried to coax answers out of him, answers he couldn't give or didn't want to give. And now that he needed her, she was there to help him and wouldn't abandon him.

Reaching for her hand, he squeezed it gratefully, her fingers enclosing his, squeezing back.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Mentally, Remus cursed and pulled the thin cloak tighter around himself.

Despite the mild summer night he felt cold, inside and out.

Occasionally, a soft breeze blew over his overheated skin, making him shiver like a lone leaf in a storm.

Above him, the moon shone on a starless sky, silently mocking him.

The full moon was fast approaching and Moony felt restless.

Ever since Sirius had died – the last one the beast inside of him had considered pack – his wolf had grown more violent in its misery and it had become bolder in his mind with every passing day.

Nowadays his wolf side was never far from his consciousness, always urging him on and fighting him for dominance. He hadn't had another choice but to double the dose of wolfsbane potion again – the last time that had been necessary had been after James and Lily's deaths. Without more of the potion he wouldn't be able to retain his senses during those seemingly endless nights of horror.

On a side note, was it possible to grow resistant to the disgusting elixir? Next time he saw Severus, he should ask him about that...

He sniffled slightly.

As if the approaching full moon wasn't enough already he had caught himself one nasty flue. He felt as if someone had forced sand paper down his throat, his nose was blocked and the pounding in his head certainly didn't help matters at all.

Maybe, if he was lucky, Severus had a potion on him that would help him? That was, if the Potion's Master was going to attend the coming meeting. The way things were going right now, he wouldn't be surprised if he wasn't going to... But even then, he was sure Molly would know some sort of household remedy or two.

Yes, finally reaching Grimmauld Place and collapsing on top of his soft bed sounded like heaven...

...

… but he had to report first and more importantly he had to check up on Harry.

The last time he had seen his adopted godson **3** had been during the attack on the Burrow. And worried out of his mind, he had still been sent away on his latest mission.

Of course he had protested tremendously, but Albus had insisted. There had been no arguing against it.

He had been a nervous wreck during the days Harry had been missing, the whole time imagining worst case scenarios, one more horrible than the other. It had interfered greatly with his mission.

What a relief the note he had received had been!

But still there were some doubts left. Who knew what Greyback had done to his godson? How mentally scarred was he now? He had had to endure so much lately with Sirius' death, the kidnapping was only the iceberg of it all!

Besides, who knew how much of the received information was true? Only Merlin knew if the note was a fake or not!

More than once he had been about to rush back to search for Harry himself But his conscience had always reminded him of the importance of the mission and had stopped him from doing anything stupid.

He sighed tiredly.

The mission had been hard and dangerous as it was. Of course, every mission for the Order was to some extent, especially if he was involved, but with Harry potentially hurt it was almost undoable.

Remus didn't think ill of Albus for sending him on the more risky ones – his werewolf blood did help him every now and then, not only because he had a higher resistance to outward influences, but also because other creatures tended to react quite violently towards approaching wizardkind. Missions were particularly hard ever since Sirius had died and he didn't have a partner any longer he could trust to guard his back implicitly.

Fumbling for a tissue, he blew his nose. He felt awful. Truly, he would appreciate at least one good night's rest.

Another sigh escaped his lips.

Even a hot cup of tea would do, he supposed.

Turning around the corner, he felt relief wash over him at the familiar sight.

He stopped in front of the numbers eleven and thirteen and with a low rumbling, number twelve, Grimmauld Place appeared, looming over both buildings imperiously and uninvitingly.

A sad look crossed Remus' features as his eyes rested on Sirius' birthplace, reminding him of his best friend once again.

Life without him wasn't quite the same what it had been before... He had always known how to cheer him up, especially when life hadn't been too nice to him...

A mirthless smile crept onto his face. Sirius would have loved that mission to find the leshys **4** and to play with their friends the grey wolves in his animagus form...

Deep in thought, Remus entered the dark mansion, silently clicking the heavy door shut behind him.

Shrugging out of his cloak, he was just about to hang it up when Molly suddenly appeared in front of him.

"Oh Remus, you're back! How are you? I hope your mission was alright?"

"Thank you, Molly. It went well. Do you know if Severus is in?"

"I'm not sure. You never know with him. Why do you ask?"

"I'm feeling a bit under the weather." Remus replied and in that instant, a coughing fit got the better of him, making him wheeze pathetically.

"Oh Remus, you sound awful! Come on in, come on in." She said and ushered him into the kitchen. "You just sit down while I'll make some tea and call the Order."

Flicking her wand, the kettle on the stove started to heat up water.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Remus was irritated. He was beyond irritated, and considering that normally he had a very mild temper that was saying quite a lot.

It was not because it was close to midnight – Moony was nocturnal, after all. Nor was it because Albus wanted to send him on another mission as soon as possible without him being able to get a proper rest.

No, he could live with all of that.

Instead it was what he was _supposed_ to do next. After all that Greyback had done!

"Are you out of your mind?!" Remus demanded, positively fuming and giving each of the assembled Order members an angry glare.

They flinched at his words, but still none of them spoke up.

"Going to Greyback to negotiate?" He stood up and his chair fell over with a loud clatter. "This is the stupidest thing I've ever heard!" He spat. "I would have expected this from Sirius but not from any of you!"

Could they not understand that approaching Greyback was just like a suicide mission? The man would tear him apart as soon as he would see him! And it wasn't only because theoretically, Greyback was his alpha and Remus had probably breached over a hundred rules when he had turned his back on them

"I don't mind going to whichever mythical creature will help us win the war, no matter how bad their reputation, but Greyback? Have you forgotten that he's the one who's bitten me?"

His ragged breathing was loud in the awkward silence, then his voice quietened down, now barely audible. "Have you forgotten that he is my alpha? To them I am a traitor to their pack."

He would kill him, of that, Remus was sure.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Harry had just exited the library and was now on his way down to the kitchen.

He had spoken so long with Hermione, discussed things with her, talked with her about anything that came to his mind that he had completely lost track of time and was now feeling quite ravenous.

About to set his foot on a step of the stairs, he was startled when suddenly, he heard an angry voice shouting, coming from somewhere on the lower levels.

Remus...? Had that honestly been Remus just now?

Forgetting all about food, he rushed down the stairs and ripped the door to the kitchen open, scanning the room for the one person he was looking for.

"Remus!" Harry shouted as soon as he spotted his adopted godfather, sprinted towards him and enveloped the startled man in a tight hug.

"You're back!" He exclaimed, excited.

"I believe this rather odious meeting is over now. I shall be going as I have a very important potion to brew." Snape sneered, giving Remus a pointed look and leaving the room with large strides.

"How are you? How was the mission?" Harry asked, exited.

Chuckling at Harry's antics, Remus smiled down at him and hugged him back.

"The mission went rather well." The older man said, his voice rough and scratchy

"You're ill?" Harry asked, confused, noticing the other's discomfort

Werewolves could become ill...?

"Just a mild cold. It will pass." Remus assured him, letting go of his godson.

The Order members were slowly leaving the room, some of them staying behind to clear the kitchen table.

"I promise you, I'll be back on my feet in no time. I've already gotten a potion from Severus."

"Snape? You've got a potion from Snape?"

The mistrust in Harry's voice must have been more obvious than was normal, even for him, because Remus said, not unkind. "I know you don't trust Severus, Harry, but he is a invaluable Order member and above all else, Albus trusts him. That should clear all your doubts."

About to retort something, Harry suddenly felt a hand on his shoulder.

Turning around, he saw Charlie standing behind him. "There's still some tea left. Do you want the rest?" He asked Harry, winking at him.

Embarrassed, Harry looked away and shook his head, not noticing Remus raising an eyebrow at them.

Not turning his attention away immediately, Charlie regarded him a moment longer, his gaze intent, making Harry fidget uncomfortably under the heavy scrutiny. Then the redhead shrugged, disposed of the tea and shot him one last glance before leaving the room.

"Something you want to tell me?" Remus asked as soon as the door was closed behind him, grinning mischievously.

Harry blushed and waved about with his hands, denying Remus' insinuation. "Wha-... No... He's a guy! I'm not... I mean..."

Laughing silently, Remus laid his hand on Harry's shoulder in a reassuring way.

"It's fine. I was only joking. But you know there's nothing wrong with preferring your own gender."

Was it possible to die of mortification? Remus wasn't going to have THAT talk with him now, was he? This was beyond mere embarrassment!

"Why don't we sit down somewhere and have a little chat? I promise I'll listen to anything you have to say. And if you don't want to talk about it, I won't force you to tell me." Remus proposed in a gentle voice.

For a moment, Harry was uncertain about how to proceed.

Could he really talk about this? This was just pure humiliation!

But then again, he considered Remus to be his godfather. If he couldn't talk to him about things like that, then with who could he talk?

Just the thought of talking with Hermione or even, Merlin forbid, Ron, about this was... was... he just couldn't imagine it! He would probably die of embarrassment!

And what if this wasn't just a one time occurrence? What if it happened more often? Maybe he really should talk about this... it couldn't be more mortifying than the actual event itself had been.

Shyly but hesitantly, Harry nodded his head.

He followed the older man out of the kitchen and into the sitting room, watching him summon a cup of tea for himself and a cup of hot chocolate for Harry.

Grateful, Harry accepted and sipped at it, welcoming the warmth that spread through his body and that calmed him down a bit.

A comfortable silence settled over the two while they enjoyed their drinks.

Could he really do this? Just thinking about his clumsiness and how he had ended up sitting on top of Charlie was making him blush to the roots! But noticing that he was apparently interested in Harry was even more mortifying!

Harry cleared his throat and twisted his shirt in his hands, not looking at the older man.

"There was this one... situation..." He paused, searching for the right words. "... I... you know..."

Remus lifted an eyebrow at Harry, silently asking him to elaborate, but his questioning posture was disturbed when he couldn't prevent himself from sneezing any longer, causing him a running nose. He was forced to fumble for a tissue again and blow his nose once more.

His nostrils were itching.

Ever since Harry had burst into the meeting a strange smell had been bothering him, but up until now he hadn't been able to figure out what it was. His nose was just too blocked, even if it was running every now and then. He sense of smell was still off.

"Sorry. Don't mind me, please."

Harry shot his godfather a concerned look, but eventually relented. "... If you're sure..."

Remus nodded his head and waited patiently for him to continue.

"Okay... If you really think so..." He said and for a moment, Harry needed to gather his thoughts.

"Well...I kind of stumbled over Charlie... and..." He paused and drew in a shaky breath. "I mean I can understand if Ginny... you know... smelled funny... but Charlie?"

"Smelled funny?" Remus asked, scratching his nose absent-mindedly. It was really bothering him.

"What do you mean?"

"... like... he liked... me... a lot..." Harry stammered and his discomfort was plastered clearly all over his face.

"You smelled his arousal?" Remus said, disbelieving, and stared at his godson.

Uneasily, Harry nodded and an awkward silence settled over them. Minutes seemed to tick by while the uncomfortable quietness was dragging on, becoming even heavier the longer it lasted.

Suddenly, understanding was dawning on him and Remus' eyes widened as all the pieces fell into place.

Grabbing the collar of Harry's shirt, he ignored his godson's startled yelp and pulled it aside. He couldn't prevent the sharp intake of breath at the sight of the scarred skin on shoulder and immediately a sense of dread was spreading inside of him.

"Harry, have you been feeling strange lately?" Remus asked hurriedly, suppressing a choke with difficulty while watching his godson intently.

"Why do you ask?" Harry replied, a guarded expression entering his face.

As if burned Remus let go of the collar and stood up abruptly, needing to bring space between them.

"No." The older man's voice came out in a rush. He had never sounded so pitiful and desperate before in the time Harry had known him.

"Remus! What's wrong?" Harry asked, worried, his voice nearly breaking, and stood up, too. He easily caught on to his godfather's turmoil.

"No..." Remus shook his head again in denial. "It can't be... It's not possible..." He mumbled to himself, his eyes dilated and his breathing ragged.

"Remus!" Harry shouted, and couldn't quite figure out if he should shake the man or not to get him out of his funk. He didn't know what else to do and he was scared at his godfather's reaction

Startled, Remus' eyes focused on him.

Taken aback, Harry was surprised to find they were glowing amber! In that instant, he reminded Harry of a frightened animal that was driven into a corner.

Cautiously taking a step forwards, Harry reached for his trembling godfather, whose arms encircled him instantly in a surprisingly strong hug, nearly crushing him.

"It's okay. Everything's alright." Harry murmured into Remus chest, soothing him. He noticed how Remus' breathing was slowly returning to normal again. He was probably already berating himself for losing control like that.

"No it's not Harry..." Remus whispered into his shoulder, his embrace never loosening. "I've failed you." And Harry couldn't help tensing, bracing himself for the words that he had known would be coming ever since Remus had looked at him like that.

"What do you mean?" He asked, shutting his eyes tightly, as if to shut out reality and wishing everything was just a dream – a nightmare.

"You... you are... Grey... Greyback, he… " Remus' voice broke and his arms tightened around Harry.

Taking a deep breath, he tried again. "You... smell differently, Harry" He finished of lamely.

"I tried a new brand of shampoo." Harry mumbled and a chocked laugh was heard from above.

"No Harry ... you smell of wolf."

Burying his head in Remus' chest, Harry felt his eyes prickle and he tried to blink away the tears.

"What's going to happen now, Remy?"

"I don't know... Harry... I don't know..." He answered and gently carded through the unruly black hair.

"Come, let's sit down again." He said after a moment and lead Harry back to the couch. Upon reaching it, they sat down once more with Harry leaning into the older man's side.

For a long time neither of them spoke. Silent tears were falling onto Remus' shoulder, soaking it, while he continued stroking Harry's back.

Hours seemed to pass by before Harry calmed down again enough to wipe his eyes with the sleeve of his shirt. Then he broke the silence first. "About what you said earlier... that you failed me..." He paused. "You didn't – fail me, I mean. It's not your fault."

Cushioning his head on his godfathers shoulder, he continued to lean on him. Then he explained quietly. "You aren't responsible for the things Greyback does. I don't blame you."

On an afterthought, he added. "And you shouldn't blame yourself." Next to him, he felt the air rush out of Remus in a relieved sigh.

"You have matured so much, Harry." Remus said after a moment. "Maybe too much." His voice had a sad ring to it.

Harry sighed, and, suddenly exhausted, rubbed his eyes. "If it's like you say then I can't do anything against it anyway so it's not worth it to complain. It's not like it'll change anything anyway. But things like those leave behinds marks..." He said, his gaze becoming distant and jaded with emotion.

Remus' heart ached painfully and all he wanted to do at the moment was to take his godson to some far away place and hide him from the world.

But he would never stand for it. He would never abandon his friends and let them suffer if he could help it. So all he could do right now was to always be by his side and help him as much as possible.

Remus was ripped from his distressing thoughts when Harry said sleepily.

"I sometimes wonder... this could have ended much worse..."

"What?" The movement of Remus' hand halted for a moment before it continued its comforting way over Harry's back. How could this have ended any worse? The son of one of his best friends was slowly turning into a werewolf!

Then, as the meaning behind Harry's words fully registered in his mind, a cold shiver ran down his spine and his heart lurched painfully.

Yes – but what more could have gone wrong? He could have been handed over, branded as property, tortured agonisingly until he would have choked on his own blood pathetically and left to die somewhere in the dirt, all alone!

He gritted his teeth and rubbed his temple, trying to stop his line of thought right there, and instead concentrated on the quiet mumblings that were spoken into his shoulder.

"... not hurt or anything and Greyback never handed me over to Voldemort and I'm not sure any more if he ever intended to..."

Another yawn escaped Harry's mouth and his eyes became heavy – finally the most recent events were catching up with him.

"...He even gave me strawberries." He continued, a small frown appearing on his face.

Oblivious to the sudden stillness of his godfather, he drifted of into a light slumber, his head resting on Remus' shoulder while the rest of his body was still leaning against the older man.

"Harry... oh." Forgetting what he was about to say, Remus watched the peaceful face of his charge. Despite the situation, a small smile stole onto his features at the sight.

"Hey, sleepy head..." He said quietly and gently shook him. "You should really go to bed."

"Don't want to." Harry whined and swatted his hand at him. His eyes were still closed and he cuddled deeper into his side.

Raising an eyebrow, an idea came into his mind and Remus grinned mischievously.

"Oh really? Then I just have to do this!" He exclaimed and began a sudden tickle attack.

Startled awake, Harry squeaked indignantly and leaped up from the sofa. Whirling around, he glared at Remus who couldn't suppress his chuckling.

"Okay I am going... no need to treat me like an eight year old!" Harry grumbled, scowling, and left the room. As soon as he had closed the door, he could hear the soft laughter of his godfather and it followed him up to his room, warming his heart.

After changing into his pyjamas, he closed the window and pulled down the thick covers of his bed. He slipped into his bed, shifted around for a moment and curled up on top of the soft mattress.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

A loud crash startled Harry awake and before he realised what was going on, he was sitting bold upright in his bed, his heart beating like crazy in his chest.

Looking around frantically, he noticed with relief that it had only been the sound of his rattling window shutters.

He scrunched up his face in confusion.

He was sure he had closed them before he had gone to bed so they must have reopened themselves somehow while he had slept.

Frustrated, he rubbed his eyes sleepily and got out of his cosy bed. He had been lying awake what had felt like countless of hours and had been staring at the ceiling, not able to sleep despite his exhaustion and instead had been repeating Hermione's and Remus' words over and over again inside of his head, hoping they would calm his frazzled mind so that he could finally go to sleep.

Slowly, he tiptoed through the dimly lit room to close the shutters again, the soft glow of the moon the only source of light that guided him towards the window.

He was halfway across the room when a gust of wind tickled over his neck, making his hair stand on end.

Harry stopped in his movements and raised his hand to his neck to cup it warily, looking around in the darkness again.

Not seeing anything out of the ordinary, he went over towards the window and closed the shutters, wincing at the loud noise in the silence.

Then he went back to bed, crawled under the thick covers once more and sighed contently, letting the comfortable warmth lull him back into a welcomed drowsiness.

Harry was nearly half asleep again when he was suddenly pressed into the mattress, a heavy weight settling over him. Hot breath ghosted over his ear and something rough, slick and wet ran over its shell, making hot and cold shivers rush down Harry's spine.

"Gotcha!" A dark, rumbling voice said playfully into his ear, making unpleasant goosebumps appear on his skin.

* * *

CLIFFHANGER!

We're going to explain how a certain someone was able to bypass the Fidelius Charm in the next chapter so please, don't kill us! Also, we're sorry, but it was just such a nice and fitting end to this chapter... Await the next chapter with baited breath! It will be there... We just don't know

**1** If this doesn't make any sense at all... then we're sorry... but we suck at writing formal and scientific texts... so if you have no idea what this is about... please don't kill us and just let us know please!

**2 **We do know (well, more like, der-gestiefelte-kater knows because I dropped history...) that the title 'lord' and 'feudalism' don't necessarily belong together but we needed it to explain the concept. Please don't flame!

**3** Again, we are aware that Sirius is Harry's godfather, but in our story Remus has taken on that role, though didn't mention how that came about. Might do that later on in the story if there is an opportunity.

**4** According to Wikipedia, leshy is a male woodland spirit in Slavic mythology who protects wild animals and forests and grey wolves are there friends.

Hope to see you next time!


	13. Chapter 13

**Disclaimer:** Nothing ours!

**A/N:** Hi there dear readers (those of you who have not abandonned us yet and new ones alike)!

Happy belated Christmas!

We are still alive! We had a bit of a lot to do in real life so we apologise for this long delay! But here it is! The new chapter! We wrote it in more or less 3 days (so if there are still a few mistakes please forgive us but der-gestiefelte-kater wanted to upload it before the new year)!

Anyway, just so you know, we tried out EVERY SINGLE ONE of those things that is gonna happen down there (well not really, but some of them) so it should be kind of accurate. For one, we didn't exactly jump out of the window but we drew it and discussed Greyback's likely flight path...

Aaaanywaaay! Thank you for reading and/or leaving a comment!

We hope you enjoy and that you are not going to kill us in the end! Have fun!

**Warnings: **language, weirdness, ACTION!

* * *

Chapter 13

He was nearly half asleep when he was suddenly pressed into the mattress, a heavy weight settling over him.

Hot breath ghosted over his ear and something rough, slick and wet ran over the shell, making hot and cold shivers rush down Harry's spine.

"Gotcha!" A dark rumbling voice said playfully.

Harry's eyes shot open in panic and his frightened gaze met amber eyes that were glowing in the dark. Terrified, he opened his mouth to scream for help but before he could utter the smallest of sounds, a large hand covered his lips and stopped him from yelling.

The hulk of a man adjusted his grip on Harry's wrists and bent forwards, ragged breathing ghosting over his face. The smell of coppery blood and rotting meat rose to Harry's nose, making him dizzy with revulsion while bile rose in his throat at the disgusting mixture of the two.

Fighting to keep his senses, his eyes widened in shock when finally, he got a good look at his assailant.

How had Greyback found him? How had he been able to bypass the Fidelius Charm?

It didn't matter right now! All that mattered was to get away from the beast atop of him!

"Quiet, pup. And don't try anything stupid." Greyback threatened in a dark voice, piercing him with a sharp look.

Frozen, Harry watched Greyback stop momentarily and then lift his head as if listening to something out of Harry's range of senses. Concentrating for a moment, he was surprised to suddenly hear the clattering of pots, plates or other kitchen equipment.

Someone had to be in the kitchen!

Merlin! This was his chance! He had to get out of Greyback's hold and make it downstairs!

In a desperate attempt to free himself, he started to struggle, adrenaline pumping through his body at high speed.

But it was all in vain! The hold on his arms only intensified, gripping him almost painfully, and the hand over his mouth clamped down more forcefully, restricting his breathing and making his eyes begin to water.

He had to get out of here! Fast!

Kicking at the werewolf with his legs, Harry tried to hurt him somehow to distract him – it didn't need to be painful, all he needed was the moment of surprise!

But before he could do Greyback any harm, the other shifted his weight onto Harry's knees so that the strong bones pressed into his thighs, effortlessly holding his legs down.

Growing desperate, Harry ignored the excruciating feeling of the blood being stopped from circulating in his legs and instead bit down hard on the hand covering his mouth.

A surprised yelp escaped Greyback and he automatically loosened his hand somewhat. Not hesitating for even just a second, Harry jerked his head free and rammed it straight into the werewolf's with full force.

Cursing profoundly, Greyback lost his hold on Harry. Instantly, he used the other's momentary lapse of control to his advantage to pull his legs free and twisted out from under the heavy form.

Scooting over to the edge of the bed, he jumped down and set out for a run to the door.

But his freedom was only short-lived.

With a huge amount of force the werewolf slammed into his unprotected back effortlessly pushing him into the ground with his heavy weight.

Harry's breath was knocked out of him and black spots danced across his vision. Vaguely, he heard growling above him, but he was too busy trying to get some much needed oxygen into his lungs.

His attempts to get away from under the crushing mass grew more desperate and sluggish with every passing second.

_Can't breathe...! _He thought and gathered the last bits of his strength.

Harry braced himself and shoved his elbow up with as much force as he could muster. He winced when it collided with something hard and unyielding, but the grunt that reached his ears made up for it. And surprisingly, the weight on top of him eased and rolled away, too.

Hastily, he scrambled back up just to stumble over his own two feet while the room spun and his stomach lurched, leaving him disorientated and helpless. Desperate, he tried to grab for something to stabilize himself when he felt an arm closing around his waist that pressed him against something unrelenting.

His lungs ached and he closed his eyes as a wave of nausea washed over him. Taking a deep breath, he couldn't stop the coughing fit shaking his body.

So caught up in his misery, he barely registered the rough hand settling on the back of his head. Only when his hair was pulled roughly and his head was jerked to one side, baring his neck to the werewolf standing behind him, did he realise the position he was in.

"Got a death wish, pup?" Greyback growled close to his ear, and the arm around his waist tightened, pulling Harry's backside against his crotch. A cold shiver ran down his spine at the scent the other emitted and he froze in fear. Petrified, he had no other choice but to listen to the werewolf's ragged breathing on his neck, much to close for any comfort.

Suddenly, something cold fell down onto his shoulder, leaving a slick trail as it slowly made its way down his back.

He flinched, terrified and in disgust.

"Didn't know you liked it rough." Greyback said, his teeth grazing Harry's overheated flesh faintly. "Unfortunately your little stunt has caused quite the stir. Your little pet wolf is on his way."

"What do you want from us?" Harry hissed, the mention of Remus' name giving him courage.

"Don't worry. Just a little chit-chat between old friends." The werewolf said in mock-casualness, his sharp claws caressing Harry's scalp ever so lightly.

"Now, behave yourself and no harm will be done."

An instant later, Harry's bedroom door banged open, the lights flickered on and Remus, clad only in a dog-themed pyjama barged in.

"Leave him alone!" He shouted out of breath, his wand raised and the tip pointed at them.

"Stay where you are!" The monster hissed and Harry could feel the beast tense behind him.

"Remus!" Harry screamed, his struggles reawakening, but before he could do anything else, the claws holding Harry's head tightened, bruising the tender flesh. He winced in pain and tensed, careful not to move any further.

"Stop this stupid wand wavering, fucking retard!" Greyback snarled, irritation clear in his tone. His voice lowered threateningly and a dark and dangerous growl formed in his chest. "Or do you want to hit your precious pup accidentally?"

For a second, Remus looked surprised, but he recovered almost instantly and his face distorted into the same furious look as before, glaring daggers at Greyback.

Then, after what seemed to be decades, Remus lowered his wand reluctantly, his gaze shifting between Harry and Greyback every now and again. As soon as the wand pointed to the floor, Harry felt Greyback relax somewhat.

"What do you want, Greyback?" Remus spat.

"Now, now, got a hot spot for the little one, huh?" Greyback drawled but his arms tightened around Harry once again to an almost crushing grip.

"Get to the point, Greyback!" His godfather snarled indignantly.

"I want a meeting with your little club." Greyback said nonchalantly, catching both Remus and Harry off-guard.

An incredulous expression crossed Remus' face and he asked cautiously. "Why would you want to be in a room full of your enemies?"

"'Cause I can." Greyback replied, his voice full of arrogance, and Harry could almost hear the ferocious grin in the wolf's voice. For some reason, the desire to wipe it off of his face was becoming almost overwhelming.

"And you wouldn't dare to lift one fucking finger against me as long as I've got your precious boy-who-lived in my arms."

"You wouldn't dare!" Remus snarled angrily, his eyes blazing with hatred.

"Try me." Greyback challenged his seething godfather coolly and Remus' eyes narrowed at the provocation. His teeth clenched tightly and the vein on his forehead was about ready to pop. A deadly silence unfolded, making it hard to breathe. The arm around Harry had stiffened considerably and deep growling started to form in Greyback's chest. The beast's muscles were tense and he was ready to lunge at the other.

Remus cleared his throat before he lowered his eyes to the floor reluctantly, clearly not wanting to give in to the beast.

Greyback's growl subsided at the show of submission and an awkward silence settled over them.

"Now," Greyback broke the quiet, sounding pleased with himself. "Invite them in." He commanded.

Remus turned to the open door and as soon as he was distracted, Greyback forced Harry to move backwards.

"Play along." The beast murmured and paused in his step when the order members cautiously entered the room with their wands drawn and at the ready.

Harry could hear a few shocked gasps and terrified whispers of 'oh Harry', but the awkward position of his head stopped him from seeing who it had been.

"One wrong move." Greyback threatened and stared at them menacingly. Not letting them out of his sight, he slowly loosened his grip on Harry's head, his hand trailing down the boy's throat until his deadly claws reached Harry's aorta, tracing it.

"Now that we are all gathered so _cosily_ in this _very_ friendly atmosphere..." Greyback drawled, an evil glint in his eye.

"Leave Harry alone, bastard!"

"So insulting, I'm hurt..." Greyback replied in a tone that indicated clearly that he was not. "Didn't your parents ever tell you not to provoke the big bad wolf?" He paused for a moment as if to gather his thoughts.

_Is the bastard teasing them?_ Harry thought, some traces of anger entering his mind at the notion. He became even madder knowing that in his current position, he couldn't do anything to help his friends.

He was as useless as a rag doll!

And then the beast continued in a mocking voice. "As I was about to say... before I got interrupted …" He pierced the accused with a dark look. "I can't be bothered to work with the fucking snake retard any longer so I offer you to work with me in the future." Greyback said arrogantly. "I give you 3 days to consider... my _proposal_."

A large grin spread over his face. "Ah and before I forget: For the time being I take this one with me. Until then."

Before anybody could comprehend the meaning behind his words, Greyback jumped at the closed window and tackled it with his shoulder. The glass shattered and the wood gave way to the huge mass, showering both Harry and Greyback with thousands of splinters, nicking and piercing the werewolf's skin.

Vaguely, Harry saw the shocked faces of his friends, frozen to the spot for the moment, before they leaped to the window.

Just before they could hit the ground, he was hurled around and swung over a broad shoulder. Then Greyback cushioned their fall, landing on his haunches, and Harry's head crashed painfully into the beast's back with the force of gravity.

But he didn't get time to recover. As soon as the beast had touched down, he set out in a neck-breaking speed, zigzagging his way towards the ward's borders.

Foggy-brained, Harry could hear shouting and saw lightning flying towards them. Someone screamed his name.

But before the curses could hit their target, Greyback sprung to the side, dodging them without any effort. The spells missed Harry only by a few inches and he squeezed his eyes shut.

Beneath him muscles tensed, the grip on his behind tightened, and the monstrous man jumped over the fence behind the house with an agility Harry hadn't known the werewolf possessed. They were still in mid-air when he felt the familiar pull behind his navel and they disapparated into thin air.

XXXXXXXXXXX

With a hard impact Harry hit the ground. He moaned in pain when his stomach lurched.

He knew he was about to vomit but before he could try to calm down and regain his bearings, something hard collided with his chest and the wind was knocked out of him.

Squeezing his eyes shut in shock at the sudden impact, he felt the other body – _Greyback's body! _– push itself up and roll off of him with a groan.

God damn it! The brute was heavy!

His head hurt like hell and his body protested against any kind of movement.

How did he always end up in situations like these?

Gingerly pressing the side of his face into the wet dirt, he tried to get himself under control.

Easier said than done... He really hated side-along-apparation.

Next to him he faintly registered the movement of his once-again captor.

Why was it always him?

Opening his eyes, he blinked at his surroundings until the world came into focus.

Why couldn't the man just splinch himself into half or something? That would make things so much easier!

But_ of course_ he hadn't!

Life was so god damned unfair!

He was still fighting both nausea and dizziness when he noticed Greyback pushing himself up to his hands and knees and shaking himself like a wet dog.

Bastard!

Then Harry's eyes widened as he watched, transfixed, how splinters came out of the werewolf's skin, rained down onto the ground, and how his skin healed almost instantly.

Seriously?

A nudge on his shoulder startled him.

Looking up, he faced Greyback sitting on his haunches with a serious expression, his hand still outstretched.

"Up!" The werewolf growled. "We cannot stay here."

Harry gritted his teeth in annoyance.

The nerve of the bastard!

Slowly he pushed himself up into a sitting position and he clenched his fist.

Who did he think he was?

Lifting his arm, he slammed his fist into the unsuspecting werewolf's face with a satisfying crunch.

Disbelieving, Greyback touched his nose and fingered the broken bone while blood was trailing out of his nostrils.

"God damned little fucker!" He growled lowly before he made a jerky motion with his hand and straightened his nose.

A sense of dread pooled in Harry's gut while he watched the other in morbid fascination.

Slowly the beast looked up with a murderous glint in the cold amber eyes.

He was so dead!

* * *

THE END!

not! But this wasn't supposed to happen! It just kind of... developed... and we honestly couldn't see Harry just sitting there and taking it. That'd be just too whimpy (and he already is kind of whimpy...)...

So yeah, we have to figure out how Harry's going to be able to survive this...

Have a Happy New Year!


End file.
